


just give me something to believe in

by lineofpepsi



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Cowboys, Gun Violence, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Video Game AU, late 1800's, red dead redemption 2 au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2021-04-11
Packaged: 2021-04-21 03:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 169,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22035094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lineofpepsi/pseuds/lineofpepsi
Summary: By 1899, the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end. America was becoming a land of laws; even the West had mostly been tamed. A few gangs still roamed but they were being hunted down and destroyed.This is the story of Evan Fong and his attempt to save his gang from the same fate.
Relationships: Brock Barrus/Lauren Barrus, Chrissy | fissy/Scotty | fourzer0seven, Evan Fong/Tyler | I AM WILDCAT, John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y, Luke/Genay
Comments: 104
Kudos: 84





	1. snowed in

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again boys with another video game AU - this time Red Dead Redemption 2!
> 
> we got some angst, we got some rootin' tootin' gays, we got all the good shit going down in the wild west. Once again, I'm changing the plot of my story so it differs a good bit from the game, especially towards the end. 
> 
> Also, once again, I'll be updating tags as I write because fuck if i know how things are gonna go later on. Check those for potential triggers please!
> 
> Let's go, lads.

Evan normally loved the snow. He was from Canada, after all, and it was pretty much mandatory that you love snow and maple syrup there. 

But the States were different, and right now, the snow could go fuck itself. 

Evan shivered, wrapping his coat tighter around himself in his desperate attempt to keep warm. It didn’t do much, but it made him feel better. 

The horse he rode trembled underneath him; she was a strong mare, but she was also fed up with the never ending downpour of fluffy white flakes. 

This blizzard was the cruelest he’d ever seen; the snow was coming down so thick he could barely see ten feet in front of him, even with the lantern he held in his increasingly numb hand. 

“Craig?” He called out, as loud as his sore and frozen throat would allow him. “Brian? Tyler?” 

“Evan!” The reply was barely audible, even though it had most likely been shouted. It sounded as if it came from directly in front of him, so he pushed his horse just a little faster. 

He sighed with relief when the light from other lanterns peeked through the icy downpour. 

Silhouettes emerged from the snow; wagons and horses, lone riders bringing up the rear of the tail as they all pushed forward. His family, trudging through the snow with utmost determination. 

Their leader and one of his second in commands occupied the first wagon, while the other second in command rode solo next to them. Keeping up a solid front against the blizzard, leading the rest of their family to safety.

The solo rider, Brian, greeted him. “What did you find?” He had to shout over the snow, but he had no trouble projecting his voice. 

“An abandoned mining camp, further ahead.” Evan pointed even though nothing could be seen through the snow. “Actual shelter.” 

Brian glanced to their leader, Tyler, who nodded at him. 

“Then it’s there we’ll go. Everyone, onward!” Tyler shouted to the rest of them, then glanced back to Evan, who had taken place on the other side of the wagon. “Did you see Luke out there?” 

Evan shook his head. The older man had been out there for much longer than he had, and he had started to worry. 

“Let’s get settled first, then we’ll go from there.” Craig, the other second in command, spoke up. He held the reins to the horses tightly in his grip, and was practically burrowed into Tyler’s side. 

“It isn’t too much further,” Evan told them. “I’ll lead.” 

The abandoned mining town was honestly a little depressing. A closed off mine and a few decrepit buildings, backed on one side by the mountains. It was defendable, secluded, and horrible. 

Brian jumped off his horse the second they neared the town, holding a lantern in one hand and his revolver in the other. He went straight for the largest building, what looked like a housing unit of sorts once upon a time. 

The door was barely hanging onto the building; he nudged it open with his foot and peered inside. The harsh yellow light illuminated the room with shards of yellow light; it was visible how his hand shook, whether from the cold or from exhaustion, he couldn’t tell.

“It’s clear! Bring her in here!”

Brian cleared the way as four people carried in a woman wrapped in a heavy blanket.

Evan helped them set the woman down, easing her down with care. He moved away to let the closest thing they had to a doctor - a fearsome woman named Simone - check her. 

While the doctor worked, the rest of their group filed into the building. They filled in every space, looking every part of the ragged group of outlaws on the run that they were. 

Tyler began handing out orders, knowing it was best to keep the group occupied. “Nogla, get a fire lit.”

Simone pressed her numbing fingers to the woman’s throat. 

“Chrissy and Scotty, go bring in every blanket we have.” 

Then she laid her head on the woman’s chest.

“Anthony, see what we have in terms of food.” 

Simone hovered her hand over the woman’s mouth. After a tense moment, she withdrew her hand, and gave their leader a solemn look. “Genay’s dead,” Simone announced, head held high and voice cracking. 

The group stopped moving, frozen into place along with the dead woman and the harsh snow outside. 

Everyone in the group bowed their heads down. It wasn’t the first time any of them had experienced death, nor would it be the last. But this time, it was one of their own that had died. The circumstance couldn’t be much worse. 

“Dearest Genay,” Tyler stepped forward, letting his eyes sweep across the gang. “We will mourn her. We will miss her. When Luke comes back, we’ll bury her.” He watched as Brian placed two coins over Genay’s eyes, some sort of Irish tradition that no one ever questioned.

“What’re we gonna do, we need supplies.” Their main hunter, Kelly, spoke up. “I can go find some game for us, we need something to eat.” 

“No, no,” Tyler shook his head. “You all need to stay here and get warm. I sent Luke and Marcel scouting ahead, Evan and I will ride out, see if we can find one of ‘em.”

“In this?” Evan motioned to the window, where the blizzard could be seen in all its glory. He really didn’t want to go right back into the snow, but he knew better than to argue. 

“Just for a little while. I don’t see what other choice we have.” 

Evan swallowed his complaints, and nodded. 

Tyler turned to the rest of the gang. He sensed the low morale, the grief in the air; he felt it himself. “Everyone, listen to me for a moment. We’ve had a… bad couple of days. We’ve lost some folk. If I could throw myself into the ground, in their stead, I would. Gladly. But we can’t change the past.” He took a deep breath, and let his eyes sweep across everyone in the room. 

His family, people he would take a bullet for and who would take a bullet for him. His family that was now a bit smaller.

“We’re safe now,” He continued. “Nobody can follow us in this weather. And when they get here, well… we’ll be long gone by then. Make this place into a camp, we may be here a few days. Get yourselves warm. Stay strong. Stay with me. We ain’t done yet.” With a nod at Brian and Craig, Tyler left the room, followed by Evan. 

Once the door behind them was shut, Evan stopped Tyler with a hand to his shoulder. 

“I haven’t had time to ask, but what the hell happened in Blackwater?” Evan asked, searching Tyler’s eyes for something that would tell him the truth. 

But Tyler’s entire demeanor glazed over into pure stone. It broke Evan’s heart to see; he’d been working so long for those barriers to dissipate, if only just for him, if only just for these moments where it was the two of them. 

“We didn’t have the whole gang, that’s what happened,” Tyler’s voice was colder than the snow falling around them. “We haven’t run into Luke or Macel yet, so they must’ve gone down the hill.”

“You need horses?” 

Evan looked over, surprised to see Scotty walking over to them with two horses. The rest were all behind a few of the buildings, attempting to avoid the worst of the blizzard. 

“Thank you.” Tyler took the reigns of one, Evan the other. “Now get yourself inside and out of this blizzard.” 

“I’m okay for now, someone should be on watch while we’re here.”

“I said get inside, you idiot. Get warm.” 

Scotty rolled his eyes, but saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Side by side, the two men rode out of their new camp and into the blizzard. 

Tyler fell silent, so Evan let his thoughts drift. He thought over the last few days, of how much all their lives had changed in a matter of hours. 

Just four days ago, they were preparing to rob the bank in Blackwater. Then Tyler and Craig took half the gang onto a different job, and then that job went so horribly wrong that they had to abandon all the money from it and move further into the mountains than they had ever planned on going. 

They were meant to be going west. Montana, or Colorado or something. Buy some land and live a good, honest life as ranchers or something. Live out the rest of their days without the fear of the law baring down on their necks.

“I’m glad you made it,” Evan couldn’t help but say. He hoped that the snow swallowed his words, whisking them far away where Tyler couldn’t hear. 

No such luck. 

Yet they seemed to lighten Tyler’s mood, if only a fraction. “I’m glad you made it too. That was bad business back there.” 

_ I’m not the one who had to make it off a ferry ambushed by Pinkertons _ , Evan thought to himself. 

“Who’s there?” Tyler called out, holding out his arm to keep Evan from moving forward. 

Evan’s eyes drifted to the growing light in front of them, barely getting through the thick snow.

Soon, the shape of a man on a horse was visible, and then it slowly became recognizable. 

“Marcel,” Tyler greeted, relief present in his voice. “Find anything?” 

“Yeah, a farm up ahead. Lights and shit, definitely people there.” 

“We really gonna rob them of their food?” Evan asked, feeling exceptionally not in the mood for any theft right now. 

Tyler shot him a pointed look but didn’t respond to him, just to their scout up ahead. “Lead the way.” 

Twenty minutes later, Evan found himself crouching behind a shed, Marcel behind a wheelbarrow, while Tyler went up to the front door of the main house. 

He was greeted by two men with rifles and mean faces. 

“Hello, gentlemen, I hate to intrude, but-” 

“Who the fuck are you?” The one on the right asked, raising his weapon and aiming it directly at Tyler’s face. 

Evan cocked his revolver, fist clenching at the sight of Tyler being threatened. 

“Ev, this ain’t good,” Marcel whispered, watching everything go down with a sharp eye. 

“I know.” 

“My name is Archibald McGregor, pleased to make your aquain-” 

“You better get the fuck off our property before you-” 

The man didn’t get to finish his threat before a bullet ripped its way through his heart, courtesy of Evan’s revolver. The other man met a similar fate from Marcel, dropping to the ground before he could even react to the death of his friend.

The two of them emerged from their hideouts to meet a grumbling Tyler. 

“I had it covered,” he complained. 

“Sure you did,” Evan told him with a small smile. 

“Help!” A shrill voice, too high-pitched to be a man’s, screamed from somewhere within the house. 

Without a second thought, Tyler busted the door down and fired two bullets into the chest of the man directly in front of him. Evan and Marcel flooded in behind him, quickly ending the other two men in the room with them. 

Cries of anguish could still be heard throughout the house, sounding as if they were coming from below their feet. 

“Evan, check the basement, Marcel, help me gather this food.”

The basement entrance was hidden by a trap door under a rug in the back room; the door lifted with a creak, revealing a ladder. Revolver held firm, Evan climbed down, keeping his ears strained for the slightest noise. 

The only thing he could hear was more crying. A lantern was left on, illuminating the small room. A man and a woman were bound, gagged, and thrown into the corner; the woman was whimpering, tears clearing paths through the dirt on her cheeks. The man was watching Evan, silently crying as he forced himself in front of the woman, shielding her as best as he could. 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Evan said. He holstered his gun and raised his hands in peace. “I’ll get you out of this, I promise.” 

He got the gags out of their mouths before making quick work of the ropes around their ankles and wrists. 

“Are those men dead?” The man asked, eyes flicking towards the ladder, as if he expected one of them to come down and kill them all any second. 

“All of ‘em,” Evan told them, though he didn’t know. 

A clash upstairs told him he was wrong though. 

He sawed through the woman’s binds as quick as he could, ignoring the two gunshots that rang out and something that sounded like glass breaking upstairs. 

“Evan, we need to leave,  _ now! _ ” Tyler’s voice rang through the chaos, chilling Evan’s bones. 

“Can you two walk?” Evan helped the couple up as best as he could while also making sure his revolver was reloaded. 

The couple nodded, words failing them. 

“Evan, hurry the hell up!” 

“I’ll go up first,” Evan told them. He sent them a last glance before hurrying up the ladder, wondering what the hell was going on. 

A fire, that’s what went on. 

A fire that was slowly taking over the entire house. 

Evan quickly yanked the couple up the ladder, shoving them through the house, past the fire, and out into the snow. 

Once safe from the brunt of it all, the couple just stood there, knee-deep in the snow in nothing but their nightclothes, watching the house burn. 

It only hit Evan right then that that was probably their house they were watching burn down. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked, helping Marcel cover the woman in a blanket before they did the same for the man. 

“There was another one, hiding,” Tyler answered grimly. “He threw a lantern onto the floor before we could kill him.” 

“Who were they?” 

“Some of those Blevins boys,” The woman answered, tears still streaming down her face and her hands fisted tightly into the blanket around her. “Goddamn monsters that took everything from us.” 

“Did they know we were here?” Marcel asked, directing his question to their leader. 

Tyler shook his head, eyes alight in anger. “They couldn’t have,” He answered sternly. “Tyler Blevins ain’t smart enough for that, this was just a coincidence. Anyways, let’s go back, we’ve been out long enough. Miss, Mister, you should probably come with us. We can give you somewhere to rest while you figure out what to do next.” 

The couple glanced to each other, having a silent conversation. Then they nodded, and followed the three men out to their horses. 

“Mister…?”

“Barrus. Brock Barrus, and my wife-” 

“Lauren Barrus.” 

“Right,” Tyler nodded, gesturing to Marcel’s horse. “Mister Barrus, if you would ride with Marcel and Missus Barrus, if you would ride with Evan.” 

“There’s a horse in our barn,” Brock told them, pointing to said structure in the distance. “We’ll take him, Mister.” 

“Tyler Wine. I am sorry to have met under these circumstances.” Tyler nodded to Marcel. “Go with Mister Barrus to the barn, to ensure there’s no more trouble.”

“Yes, boss.” Marcel and Brock trudged off to the barn.

Evan turned his attention back to his horse. The poor mare was shaking herself free of snow every few moments, clearly fed up with it. He patted her mane to console her, listening while his leader made small talk with Missus Barrus. 

But she wasn’t really saying much at all. She just stood there, watching her house burn. 

It was a horrible situation, but the burning structure provided some warmth, even from the distance they stood at. 

“I’m very sorry, Miss,” Tyler tried to say. 

Lauren just made some sort of grunting noise, having barely heard him. 

A shout from the barn drew both men’s attention. Tyler and Evan barely shared a glance before Evan took off, running as best as he can in the thick snow. 

“Stay here, Miss,” Tyler commanded before taking off himself. 

The scene they found was hardly worth the trouble. Marcel had another Blevins on the ground, holding him by the neck of his shirt while Brock tried to calm down the horse that was currently going wild in the stable. 

“One last one, boss,” Marcel shook the man, raising his fist in a threat. The man already had a broken nose that was gushing blood, so clearly he wasn’t much of a threat.

Tyler grinned at the sight. “Perfect. Find out what the hell they’re doing this far east.” 

Evan turned away from the interrogation to help Brock calm the horse. Once it’s calm enough to be led, he hands the reigns to Brock, who quickly takes the horse out of there and to his wife. 

“We was gonna rob the train,” The Blevins boy tells them through sniveling tears. “We got a camp up here and everything!” 

Tyler rolled his eyes and stepped forward. “Evan, Marcel, please head over to Mister and Missus Barrus and escort them back to camp. I’ll finish up here and follow you boys.” 

Marcel stood from their captive and walked out with Evan. 

“You go ahead,” Evan told him once he was sure they were far enough from the barn. “I’ll stay here, make sure he gets back safe.” 

“Sure.” Marcel nodded once before herding the Barrus’ towards their camp. 

Evan waited by the horses, feeding them each a quick snack to ease his worry. He probably only waited for another ten minutes, but when Tyler reappeared from the barn, he was definitely alone. 

That poor Blevins boy couldn’t have been over twenty years old. 

“You stayed,” Tyler cocked an eyebrow as he approached. “I told you to go back.” 

“So you could kill him with no witnesses?” Evan asked, barely sparing his leader a single glance before mounting his horse. “Did you at least get anything worthwhile out of him?” 

“I found out where the rest of them are camping. It’s close to us, too close. They have plans, he said, for the train.” 

“You’re really thinking about robbing a train?  _ Now?” _ Evan snapped the reigns, leaving Tyler behind if only for a moment until he caught up. 

“We need to, we’re low on money and low on supplies. When the thaw starts, we can go after this train, and then leave, hopefully with some good coin on our side.” 

Days of bone-heavy exhaustion prevented Evan from arguing any further. He could fight this battle later, when they were back at camp and ate something, even if it was only crackers or whatever was left of their meager stash of food. 

“Okay, whatever you say.” 

Tyler pushed his horse faster so he could ride ahead and block the path back to camp. Evan’s horse reared at the sudden movement. 

“What the hell?” Evan patted his horse’s neck to calm her down, eyeing Tyler with a light glare. 

Tyler merely grinned, walking his horse until the two men were side by side, facing opposite directions but with their eyes on each other. 

He took Evan’s hands in his, holding them tight. “I know this has been rough, but I need you by my side. You’re the only thing that gets me through the day, Ev. I need you, I love you. I promise that I will work until my dying breath to get us out of this shithole, and back out west as soon as possible.” 

Evan contained a sigh and kept his gaze on their interwoven hands. He heard the sincerity in Tyler’s words, heard the barely-perceptible desperation lingering there. 

“I love you too,” He said, and that was God’s honest truth. He loved the man in front of him more than anything. But he’d heard the same promises about moving out west for long enough that it was more of a day dream than a possible reality. “I’ll always be by your side, you know that.” 

He brought his gaze up to Tyler’s eyes, twinkling in the moonlight. He brought a gloved hand up to Tyler’s cheek, and his heart warmed at how Tyler leaned into his touch. 

“Let’s go back to camp, we’ve lingered here long enough.” 

The ride back to camp was quiet and thankfully uneventful. 

When they got back, they were met with a real dinner, courtesy of Kelly and Chrissy going out hunting. 

“I thought I told you to stay here and get warm,” Tyler scolded them once he was down from his horse. 

“We did that. We got warm, and then we got hungry. We bagged two deer, so tell us you’re mad once you’ve had some actual food to eat.” Kelly shoved a bowl of stew into his hands then stalked off without another word. 

And damn if a warm bowl of good stew wasn’t just the best thing right now. 

He didn’t eat it until he was sure the Barrus’ had some of their own, and some warmer clothes they managed to scrounge up. They weren’t talking much, outside of saying thanks, but Tyler didn’t expect much different. 

He just sat down on a log in front of the fire outside one of the side buildings, with Evan beside him. Together, they ate their stew and unwound after the hard day. 

“People won’t be happy about two new mouths to feed,” Evan said, idly pushing bits of deer around with his spoon. 

Tyler sighed, and leaned a bit into Evan, enough to rest his head on the man’s shoulder. It was a bit awkward considering their height difference, but Tyler always made it work. “As long as they pull their weight around here, I don’t give a shit. They have nothing, the least we can do is get them to civilization once this damn blizzard stops.” 

“What about the money in Blackwater? And what about Jonathan?” Evan missed his best friend greatly.

“It’s still too hot to go back there for the money, and we don’t even know if Jonathan is still alive-” Tyler cut himself off, taking a deep breath before he got himself too worked up. 

Evan put his empty bowl on the floor, freeing his hands so he could stand behind his leader and rub his shoulders.

Tyler groaned, melting under Evan’s touch. 

“Jonathan will just have to wait,” Tyler continued, voice softer now. “Luke’s missing too, we’ll have to go find him, and we lost Genay and he wasn’t even there to see her go.” 

“Hey, hey, enough about that now,” Evan shushed him, regretting ever bringing it up. “You need some rest, okay?” 

“I need to plan how we’re going to get out of this hole I dug for all of us.” 

“You didn’t dig anything, and you’re going to figure it all out but you can’t do that if you don’t get some damn sleep.” 

“Only if you sleep with me.” Tyler turned to face his lover, a smirk twisting his lips. “To conserve warmth.” 

Evan cocked an eyebrow, fighting a smile of his own. “Is that the only reason?” 

“If it weren’t so damn cold, I could think of several. As it is, I miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” Evan helped Tyler up, then brought their bowls over to where Chrissy was talking to the Barrus’ as they sat around the fire she had used to cook the stew. 

“Everything alright?” He asked the three of them as he dropped off the bowls. 

“Just peachy,” Chrissy answered with a roll of her eyes, no heat to her words. 

Lauren shuffled out of her chair, crossing the short space to Evan with determination etched into her face. 

“We just wanted to say thank you,” She took Evan’s hands in hers, and nodded to her husband. “For saving us, and for bringing us here. Thank you.” 

Evan gave her a small smile. “Of course, Miss. It was the least we could do.” 

“We appreciate it,” Brock spoke up. “We really do.” 

“Of course. Get some rest, you’ve had a rough day.” Evan left after that, trusting Chrissy to look after them and not scare them off with her terrible jokes or crude conversations. He loved Chrissy, he truly did, but sometimes she was just… a force to be reckoned with. 

He trudged back to the main building, where Tyler was still waiting for him. He took his lover’s hand in his, and went inside to claim whatever bedroll they could find. 

In the end, they chose one towards the corner of the room, so the women could be closer to the fire. They would be just fine, considering they were indeed sharing. 

Normally, Evan wouldn’t dare share a bedroll with another man. But here, with his family - who have seen enough to know exactly what he and Tyler were - he didn’t care. He curled up against his man, melting into his side and stealing his warmth. 

After the shit few days they’ve had, this was just what he needed. 


	2. getting ahead (i hope)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang tries its best to get back on its feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm messing around with P.O.V changes in this story, so watch for that. I'll try my best to make the changes obvious without outright stating it. My winter break ends this weekend, so bi-weekly updates will be the new schedule. Hopefully. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!

Kelly stood by her horse, a strong stallion named Archie, while she watched Chrissy go approach Evan as he stood underneath the awning of one of the far buildings. He had been on watch, forever doing something for the entire camp. Never taking a break, that one. 

She felt a little guilty about dragging him away from that to go prowl in the snow, but he was the best candidate to go with her. 

They had to find Luke, and they had to do it now. They simply couldn’t wait any longer to bury Genay, and it was wrong to do that without him there. 

Evan and Chrissy talked for a few minutes, then they disbanded. Chrissy went off to the main building, while Evan trudged towards where Kelly waited with hers and his horses, already saddled up and ready to go. 

“Does Tyler know where we’re going?” Evan asked once he was close enough to avoid shouting. 

Kelly hopped up on her horse. “Of course, Chrissy pestered him into letting us do this.” 

No one could withstand Chrissy’s pestering for more than an hour. 

“That woman is going to be the death of me,” Evan grumbled as he mounted his own horse. 

“Probably. Now, come on.” Kelly spurred her horse into a trot, watching the snow until she saw something worth following.

“How the hell can you see anything?” All Evan could see was white upon glaring white. With no clouds to obscure its path, the sun beat down on them, blinding everything and anything. 

“‘Cause I’m not an idiot,” Kelly answered as if it were obvious. “See, horse tracks.” She pointed to something in the snow, blatantly obvious to her. “Old, and probably Luke’s. He’s the only dumbass alive to be around here, other than those Blevins’ boys you killed. What’s with Tyler and Blevins, anyway? Long as I’ve been with y’all, I’ve never gotten that story.” 

“Ain’t much of a story to tell, honestly. Tyler and Tyler Blevins used to be friends, they ran together for a while. Then Blevins betrayed Tyler, and then their feud has only gotten worse over the years.” 

Kelly turned to her companion, only to see that he had that far-away look in his eyes; he wasn’t beside her at the moment, he was swimming in memories, both good and bad from the looks of it.

She turned back to the snow. “Damn. That must hurt.” 

“It was a long time ago.” 

“Sure.” Kelly gave a little sigh, lost in her thoughts as well. Thoughts of her family, of the little ragtag group she ran with for a while before meeting Tyler and realizing how much better things could be. She shook herself back to reality soon enough; they had more pressing matters to attend to. “Luke went up the mountain, it looks like he was being chased. There’s more tracks, some sort of predator. Probably wolves.” 

“Oh great, I always wanted to see one up close enough for it to eat me,” Evan deadpanned. 

“Shut up and follow me.” 

They rode their horses up the mountain, fighting against fluffy snow drifts to follow the tracks.

It didn’t take them too long to come across the remains of a small camp. But something had gotten to it before they had; the tent was in tatters, the poles that had supported it were snapped. The campfire looked as if it were trampled, but the wood was still smoking; this was recent. 

Kelly got off her horse to inspect the camp closer. She held her hand over the logs of the fire; they were still warm. “A few hours at most,” She murmured; her hand moved to follow tracks leading away from the fire. “Let’s go.” 

The two of them rode in silence, following what looked like several sets of tracks. A horse, definitely, but something else made the other sets. 

“It seems like our dear Luke found some wolves indeed,” Kelly said, face grim and eyes flickering all around their surroundings. “We should hurry.” 

The slope of the mountain got too steep to continue on horseback, so they had to dismount. 

“Grab that rifle of yours,” She told Evan as they left their horses under a bare tree. 

“Right.” Evan gave his steed one last pat, then grabbed his rifle and carefully followed Kelly down the path that wound around the mountain. 

“You really think he would’ve gone down here?” Evan asked, keeping his eyes to the snow to watch his footing. She didn’t need to remind him that one wrong move, and a painful slide down the mountain would be his end. 

“The tracks say he did.” 

They trekked on and on, up the mountain, down the mountain, through a cavern where they took a quick break to drink some whiskey and warm their bones, and then back out into the daylight. 

“Shit,” Kelly cursed before breaking into a run.

She heard Evan following behind her as she came to harsh stop, skidding in the snow before the black mass that used to be Luke’s horse. The poor thing was mauled, its throat torn out and guts spilled into the snow, staining it with shining crimson.

“Fuck.” Kelly placed her hand on the horse’s neck, above a rather nasty looking bite that was probably fatal. “Tyler won’t be happy we lost another horse.” 

“Tyler will be happy if we find Luke alive,” Evan reminded her, standing a bit behind her. 

“Right, Luke.” Kelly stood up with a sniffle - she tended to like the horses more than the people that rode them - but she couldn’t let her emotions get in the way right now. She spotted tracks leading from the horse, and trudged off without a word. 

Evan followed silently, holding his rifle a little closer to his chest now. 

“Fire a shot into the air, see if he can hear us,” Kelly told him. She knew they couldn’t just wander around the mountain on foot for too long; they needed to find him soon. 

Evan shot twice. The shots echoed throughout the air, a bit muffled but hopefully loud enough. 

They kept as still as they could and strained their ears. 

A shout seemed to come from their right. It was too far away to distinguish the words, but it was definitely human, probably Luke. 

“It’s coming from over there!” Kelly shot down the path as fast as she dared, following the shouts. “LUKE, CAN YOU HEAR US?” She yelled, far louder than any rifle shot. 

If Evan didn’t need his hands to keep his balance as they ran, he would’ve covered his ears from how loud Kelly was. 

But Luke’s continued shouts was good enough encouragement that he didn’t stop her. 

Once they got closer, they could actually discern what he was saying. 

“HELP ME!” Luke shouted, his voice sounding horribly weak. “OVER HERE!” 

Kelly and Evan ran through another short tunnel, climbed up a small cliff, then found an overhanging section of rock. 

Kelly spotted a trail of blood, ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach, and followed it. 

“He’s down here!” She shouted, relief flowing through her. She crouched over a ledge, where the man himself was sitting, probably attempting to hide from something. 

“Shit, you look awful,” Evan said as he jumped over the ledge to crouch next to Luke. 

“That’s the first thing you say to me?” Luke asked, though it sounded as if talking hurt. 

“I mean, you do look rough.” Kelly saw the deep scratches on the man’s face, and the way he was holding his bloodied leg.

“We need to leave.” Luke let Evan pick him up under his arms, barely managing to not cry out from the pain obliterating his body. 

Evan hoisted Luke over the edge and up to Kelly, who managed to carry him over her shoulder. 

“We can’t go back the way we came,” Kelly noted, adjusting her grip on Luke so she wouldn’t hurt him anymore than he already was. “Evan, lead the way.” 

Evan nodded, rifle held high, and marched forward on down the mountain, Kelly and Luke in tow. 

“You’re gonna be alright, Luke,” Kelly assured. She didn’t really know who she was assuring out of the three of them. 

“I knew a feller, got bitten by a wolf and died an hour later,” Luke said as casually as if he were discussing the weather. 

“Well, that ain’t you.” Evan’s tone was firm as his eyes swept their surroundings. 

Once they were far enough down the mountain, he and Kelly whistled for their horses. 

The horses weren’t the only thing that heard the whistle, however. 

“God, they’re back,” Luke lamented. 

Kelly looked over to a hill, where a pack of wolves were standing, watching their every move. The horses were approaching from the opposite direction, and the path down the mountain was directly in front of them. 

“Kelly, you get him to your horse, and you take off. I’ll take care of these guys,” Evan said. 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

The leader of the pack began to make its way towards them. 

“Go!” Evan shouted, pushing Kelly towards her horse. 

With no other choice, Kelly ran towards her stallion. She threw Luke onto the back then hopped onto the saddle, quickly urging her spooked horse down the path. 

She gave her pistol to Luke, who took it without a word. 

He may feel like he’s on fire and about two seconds from passing out, but he would be damned if he let these wolves take Evan. He fired three times, unable to truly discern whether he hit something or not. 

Kelly glanced behind her and saw Evan moving towards his horse, two wolves still hot on his trail. 

She turned her horse around, snatched her pistol from Luke, and used the remaining three bullets on the last of the wolves. She downed one, and the other ran off. 

Evan paused just before his horse, breathing heavy and eyes wild. He sprinted towards one of the corpses and picked it up, then sprinted back to his horse. 

He chucked it onto the rump of his mare before mounting, quickly going over to where Kelly waited for him. 

“Shit,” She breathed when he got near. 

“Shit,” Evan agreed. 

They got moving after that; Luke slumped against Kelly’s back, unable to prop himself up anymore. Kelly held his arms around her by his wrists so he didn’t fall, and sped up her horse towards camp. 

They arrived back at camp without any more problems. Marcel and Scotty hurried over to help Luke down while Evan went and dropped off the wolf carcass over at the pathetic hut that served as their kitchen. 

“Careful, idiots, it’s his leg!” Kelly shouted when Luke cried out from being lifted from the saddle. 

“Put him by the fire,” Tyler told them, brought outside by all the commotion. “Make sure those wounds don’t get infected.”

Once Luke was safely inside, Tyler crossed the snow-filled street to where Evan was standing with the Barrus’, getting warm by the fire. 

“Wolf for dinner,” Evan said, jerking his head towards the carcass that was now hanging on the wall as Brock started to skin it. 

“Delicious,” Tyler muttered. He didn’t much care for wolf, but it wasn’t like he could be picky now. “Luke alright?” 

“Some bites, some scratches. He’ll be lucky to keep his left eye, and he’ll have a helluva scar.” 

“Did you tell him about…” 

“About his wife being dead, no. We were too busy being chased down by wolves to really catch up.” 

“Evan.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it fucking sucks.” 

Tyler rested his arm around Evan’s shoulders, bringing his lover in for a half-hug. Evan made it a full hug, wrapping his arms around Tyler and burying his face into the fur of his coat. 

“Thank you for getting him,” Tyler said as he patted Evan’s back.

“It was all Kelly.” 

“And I’ll thank her later. But right now I’m thanking you, so thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

When she saw the leader of this gang of outlaws approaching, Lauren Barrus moved towards the back of the kitchen. She and her husband had mostly stayed there since their home was burned down and they were taken in by outlaws. 

For being thieves and murderers and who knows what else, they were awfully nice. 

Brock and Lauren repaid their kindness as best as they could, by cooking their food and cleaning up after. It was minor and it wasn’t their first choice of how to spend their time, but there wasn’t much else they could do. They didn’t want to be freeloaders. 

So when Kelly and Chrissy had brought back deer the first night, Lauren and Brock made a stew and chatted with the two huntresses. They were good women, able to take their minds off what they lost. 

The second night, when Evan brought back a wolf carcass, Lauren was a little lost. She’d never tried to eat a wolf before, nor Brock. But they wouldn’t let that stop them. 

She chopped vegetables while Brock skinned the wolf, all the while doing her best not to eavesdrop on the leader of the gang and his lover while they had a conversation towards the front of the kitchen. 

Tyler was an intimidating man, even to Lauren, who could hold her own just fine. He was tall, and had a powerful way about him; he oozed confidence and commanded faith from those around him. He was everything a leader should be, and that was a little scary. 

But he was also soft, and caring and gentle. He may be a murderer, but he held Evan just as softly as Brock held her. 

She hadn’t even known she was staring at the two of them until her husband nudged her, gaining her attention. 

“What’cha thinking?” he whispered, glancing at her as he began to cut meat off the wolf carcass. 

“What’re we gonna do, Brock?” She asked, keeping her voice down as well. 

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. 

Neither did she. They didn’t have any family to go to, and now, they have no savings. They had nothing except each other. 

“Maybe we could stay with them,” Lauren pondered, watching from the corner of her eye as Tyler said something that made Evan laugh. 

“We aren’t outlaws,” Brock reminded her. 

“We aren’t anything at the moment.” 

Tyler and Evan walked away, leaving the married couple alone with the food. Lauren didn’t look at her husband, instead choosing to focus on chopping the meat into smaller pieces for the stew. 

Brock sighed. He loved his wife, and he would do anything for her, but he wasn’t sure about staying with a gang of criminals on the run. It wasn’t safe.

“Evan, get your horse saddled up, we’re leaving soon.” 

Evan startled at the sudden intrusion; he’d been trying to rest, sitting with Ohm and Luke while the man was still unconscious. Despite Simone’s constant reassurances that his injuries wouldn’t kill him, Evan wanted to keep watch over him as much as he could. 

Maybe a part of him felt guilty; Ohm was the only person left of Luke’s little family right now. His wife was dead, and his brother was captured. 

“Where are we going?” Evan asked, tearing his eyes away from Luke to look at Tyler as he stood in the doorway. 

“The Blevins camp. We need their plans for the train, and we might as well rid this land of vermin while we’re out there. Ohm, you can come too if you want but I figured you’d rather stay here.” 

“You figured correctly,” Ohm told him. He held Luke’s hand a little tighter, shifting so his back was to the other two men. 

“Are you really sure this is what we need?” Evan asked, following Tyler out the door and towards the horses. “We’re barely back on our feet.” 

“The longer we stay here and do nothing, the more time Tyler Blevins has to form to bushwhack us. We need to take care of him before he does us.” Tyler stopped Evan before they could get on their horses. “I need you to trust me.” 

“I do.” Evan placed his hand on his lover’s shoulders, giving it a firm squeeze. He would’ve stolen a kiss if it were for the four other people waiting on them. “Let’s do this.”

Together the two of them rode out with Craig, Brian, Nogla, and Chrissy. Evan tried to relax knowing that they were all talented with guns and that they would most likely not get hurt doing this. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that their luck was dying. Hopefully, they wouldn’t die along with it. 

The ride through the snow-covered trails felt as if it took a million years. Evan listened as Tyler reassured the others of their main goal, and garnered their faith in him. 

Once they saw smoke in the distance, they stopped on a hill. 

“Chrissy and Craig, take up position on the far side of the camp and stay hidden until we send the signal. Brian and Nogla, take up the south side of camp. Evan and I will take this side, but wait for our signal to start shooting.” 

A chorus of “Yes, Boss,” met the chilled air, then the riders dispersed to go to their positions. 

Tyler dismounted, and waited for Evan to do the same. “Let’s head up this hill, get a look at the layout of the camp.” 

“Okay.” 

Crouched in the snow with his binoculars in his hands, Evan cursed the winter for the billionth time. It wasn’t even supposed to be this cold and snowy, it was goddamn May!

“I think I see Blevins,” Tyler muttered, entirely focused on the mission at hand instead of the awful weather. 

Evan peered through his binoculars, and looked towards the far entrance to the camp where a cluster of men had gathered. Sure enough, someone who certainly looked like Blevins sat on a horse and slapped some poor fool who got on his bad side. 

Then Blevins rode off with two others. 

“Should we go after him?” Evan asked, scanning the rest of the camp. It was comprised of a large circle of meager sheds that looked as if they were shielding a larger cabin set in the back. 

“No, let him go. What fun is it to rob Blevins if he ain’t alive to see it.” 

Evan didn’t like that; this whole thing was starting to sound too much like they were getting revenge on Blevins, and revenge missions usually ended poorly. Not that Blevins didn’t deserve it, he was a horrible man. Evan shuddered at the memories of what Blevins had done to them, and blamed it on the cold. 

“Let’s move.” Tyler made his way down the hill, leaving Evan to follow.

They made it under the pitiful excuse of a wall around the camp, and found where Brian and Nogla were awaiting their signal. 

“On my move,” Tyler murmured, rifle raised and pointed at a man standing on the water tower in the middle of the circle. 

Evan aimed at someone else, and waited for the shot to ring out. 

Chaos erupted as soon as Tyler let his bullet fly. The camp was being assaulted from three sides without knowing what was happening, and the Blevins ran like headless chickens. 

Needing to push forward, Evan abandoned his rifle in favor of his revolver, picking men off as he and his comrades closed in on the remaining few. 

Then more shots came from the woods. 

“Reinforcements at the north edge!”

At least ten more men on horseback were flooding into the camp, and there were probably more on the outskirts of the camp. 

Evan took cover by a broken wagon, picking off those he could see.

“Evan look out!” 

He turned around and saw a Blevins holding a shotgun aimed directly at his chest. Before he could even raise his revolver, the man’s head exploded into bits and pieces, raining crimson down on the snow. 

Eyes wide, he saw Chrissy holding her thumbs up from her stance on top of the water tower, rifle in hand. 

“Thank you,” he shouted, saluting her before turning back to the chaos at hand. 

“They’re retreating.” Tyler left his cover and stood to his full height in the middle of the entrance to the camp. “Should we let those cowards leave or go after them?”

“Let them go,” Evan said before anyone else interject their opinion. He’d had enough killing for today. 

Thankfully, Nogla had his back. “Let’s just get what we came for and get outta here.” 

Tyler’s brow twitched, but he relented all the same. “Fine. Evan and I will go check the main cabin. Brian and Criag, check the other buildings. Nogla and Chrissy, check the bodies. Take anything we can use, but keep your eyes peeled for the plans.” 

Everyone dispersed to do their jobs with minimal grumbling. 

The main cabin was definitely where Tyler Blevins had been staying; it was for more luxurious than it ever needed to be, complete with a fucking bear skin rug on the floor, next to the large bed covered in even more fur blankets. 

“God, I hate this prick,” Tyler muttered, nudging the head of the bear with his boot. 

Evan couldn’t help but chuckle. The adrenaline from the fight was starting to fade, leaving him a little closer to the edge of slap-happy than he really ought to be right now. But he persevered, and began searching his half of the cabin. 

Cabinets, drawers, a chest here or there, and all it produced was some canned goods, some gun oil, and what couldn’t be any more than fifty dollars. Tyler’s half of the cabin fared no better, but he knew how Tyler Blevins worked. 

He checked the chimney, where there was indeed a good stack of cash taped to the underside of it. 

“What if he needed to light a fire,” Evan pondered, perplexed at that hiding spot. 

“He didn’t,” Tyler answered him. “Demons like him don’t feel the cold. Let’s go see if the boys found anything.” 

Sure enough, they did. 

As soon as the two of them left the main cabin, Craig came galavanting up to them with a large roll of paper in one hand. “Boss, we found the plans!” 

“And the dynamite!” Chrissy shouted from the doorway of one of the little sheds. “A lot of it too.” 

Evan immediately hurried over to inspect it. There was a large chest of it, stuffed to the brim with rolls of dynamite links. It was beautiful. 

He picked up a bundle, feeling it’s weight and smelling it. “This is good shit,” He told Chrissy, who just watched him with an eyebrow raised. “Don’t give me that look, help me get this shit loaded onto the horses.”

“There’s a wagon that looks relatively usable, let’s get some horses hitched to it and get going.” 

“This was almost worth it,” Evan remarked as he saw Brian and Nogla struggling to carry their now-full satchels. 

“Still doubting Tyler?” Chrissy gave him a sideways look, an uncharacteristic seriousness underlying her jovial tone. 

“I bet we’re going to be eating well tonight.” Evan left the shed, deliberately ignoring her to go set up the wagon as she suggested. 

A half hour later, and he and Tyler were driving said wagon, laden with goods of all kinds, while the other four rode on either side of them. 

Tyler gushed about the plans while Evan focused on driving. 

“They almost had a good plan,” Tyler commented as he looked at the roll of paper for what had to be the fiftieth time already. “Missing a few parts, as all Blevins plans do, but they laid some good foundations.” 

“How’s the take looking?” Brian questioned from Tyler’s right. 

If anyone saw the minute twitch of Tyler’s eyebrow, the little signal that irritation was bubbling its way to the surface, no one mentioned it. 

“Good. There’s a car full of payroll that’s there for the taking.” 

“Guards?” Craig asked from Tyler’s left. 

“A few, but nothing we can’t handle,” Tyler answered easily. “This is going to be good for us, boys. We’ll get some easy money, then disappear.” 

“East instead of west,” Evan mumbled under his breath. 

Tyler shot him a look and a sigh. “Yes, east.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I decided to make Tyler Blevins, a.k.a. Ninja, the fortnite twitch streamer, Tyler's arch nemesis because... fortnite. It makes me laugh.


	3. of course, of course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang hold a funeral, then go rob a train to lift their spirits. Of course, the train job doesn't go perfectly, because why would it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning's a bit sad, but the mood lightens a little. Kind of.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!

It had taken Luke a full day and a half to regain consciousness without delirium.

It took another day for him to be ready to bury Genay. 

It was a quick ceremony. Ohm and Anthony dug the grave and lowered her body into it. Everyone gathered around them, heads bowed and hearts grieving. 

One by one, each person threw a clump of frozen dirt into the grave and took their leave. 

Then, it was only Luke left. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore; his knees hit the ground, sending a minor wave of pain throughout his body but it couldn’t compare to the pain in his heart. 

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered. He rested his hand over her chest, over where he should’ve felt a heartbeat. 

“It should’ve been me. It shouldn’t have been you.” Luke sniffed; his eyes watered, but he didn’t care. He blinked and the tears fell, but he didn’t care. His entire body was hurting with the strain of being up, but he couldn’t care. 

“I should’ve married you proper.” That was always his biggest regret, never getting the two of them wed under the law. Maybe it didn’t matter, because the whole point of their existence was to live  _ outside _ the goddamn law, but it still. 

He wished he had done a lot of things differently. 

He stayed there a moment longer, then tore himself away from the grave. He staggered back to the main building, where he intended to collapse onto his cot and stay there for an eternity.

Anthony and Ohm waited until he was inside to finish burying Genay. 

A day later saw Evan standing watch when Tyler came up to him, excitement clear in his smile. 

“We’re planning the train job if you’d like to join us. You don’t have to do if you don’t want to.” 

“Who else would make sure that that dynamite was included?” Evan gave him his own brief smile. “I have ten more minutes on watch, I’ll come find you.” 

Tyler nodded, then walked off towards one of the smaller buildings. 

A painful ten minutes passed and then Marcel took over for his shift. Evan hurried off to the impromptu planning session. 

The building they chose was bare, all furniture inside cleared except for a single rickety table that occupied the middle of the single room. A fire was going in the pit on the far wall, and yet the room was icy. 

Craig, Brian, Ohm, and Lui were all crowded around the table, pointing at various parts of the plans they stole from the Blevins’ camp.

“We need to move here,” Craig was trying to say, only to be interrupted by Brian. 

“If you want us all to die, then sure. If you want us to live, we need to be at the back of the fucking train-” 

“Everyone, shut the fuck up,” Tyler commanded when he saw Evan. “This bickering is getting us nowhere.”

“What’s the plan so far?” Evan settled on the floor with his back to the fire, intent on getting warm before he could commit to planning anything.

“So far, all we have is using the dynamite we found to blow up the tracks when the train is passing this specific pass,” Ohm told him with more than a hint of exasperation, pointing on the map as he explained. “There’s a tunnel through the mountains here, pretty remote, hard to get to. They can’t call for reinforcements there.” 

Evan looked around the room expectantly, hoping for more than that. 

At Tyler’s shaking head, he sighed. “That’s all you got?” 

“That’s all we got,” Lui agreed with a chuckle. “Almost an hour spent here, and that’s all we got.” 

“Then let’s hear your brilliant goddamn plan already since you’re content just sittin’ there with your dick in your hand!” Brian exclaimed, accent thickening in his frustration. 

Lui just giggled. He stood from his chair, cracked his knuckles, and pointed at the map. “We take a team of eight split into groups of four. We blow the train here, so it stops just in the tunnel. One of the groups is on the ground to make sure everything is hooked up, they wait towards the back of the train. The other group will wait on higher ground for the guards to flood out, then open fire on them. When that group has their attention, the other group will begin firing. When all the guards are dead, we ransack the train and then be on our way.” 

Brian opened and closed his mouth like a fish, Tyler grinned, Craig shook his head, and Evan and Ohm just sat there and nodded. 

“Well, shit then,” Brian grumbled. “You could’ve said that a lot earlier.” 

“Evan wasn’t here.” Lui sat down with a shrug. 

“Do we have a place in mind to settle down when we move again?” Evan asked, tapping his fingers against the table as he thought. 

“I know of a livestock town called Valentine,” Craig answered him. “I’ve been through that land a good few times, there’s a good place we can camp called Horseshoe Overlook.” 

“Then we should have the rest of the gang already moving there. We can meet up with them from the train, maybe ask them to leave us a wagon or something to make it easier.” 

Tyler nodded as his eyes traced various roads on the map. “Yeah, we should do that. Simone can head that, she’s good at getting everyone to move their asses.” 

They all let out some chuckles at that, each reliving their own memory of having Simone yell at that to move quicker. 

“Who’re we taking with us?” Brian asked. 

“I’m not going,” Ohm announced immediately. “I need to stay with Luke.”

“I respect that,” Tyler assured him. “Lui, you want in?” 

“Nope, I’m good.” 

“Alright then. So us four, and who else?” 

“Nogla, we might need a sharpshooter.”

“Chrissy, she’s good at keeping her cool.” 

“Lanai, she’s good at convincing people to not shoot.” 

“And Marcel, he’s a good shot.” 

“It’s settled,” Tyler said with a clap of his hands. “We move out at dawn, the train’s due tomorrow at dusk. Tell everyone to start packing up, help where you can, you know the drill.” 

The plan had been going well. Evan’s team - consisting of himself, Craig, Marcel, and Chrissy - had taken to the ground around the train tracks roughly two hours before it was due. They set up the dynamite to blow the tracks, then took cover in the shrubbery nearby until it was time. 

Night fell, and the other team - Tyler, Brian, Nogla, and Lanai - were positioned on the ridge directly overlooking where the train would enter the tunnel that was dug into the mountainside. 

The hum of the engine speared through the night’s quiet. 

“Masks up,” Craig whispered. 

Evan covered his face with a black bandana, and held the dynamite plunger tightly. As fun as this would be, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

The light from the train shone around the bend in the tracks, soon followed by the train itself. 

Evan counted under his breath, watching as it neared the tunnel. 

He pressed down the plunger, expecting a huge explosion, a shower of sparks, a wave of heat- 

Nothing. Fucking nothing. 

“What the fuck?” Craig shrieked, springing up from the bushes. “Shit, shit, shit,  _ no _ !” He ran from their cover, waving his arms wildly at the others up on the ridge. “The other side of the tunnel, go!”

Tyler sat on his horse and waited, excitement and anticipation bubbling in his stomach. There was a lot riding on this job, more than usual. After Blackwater, this had to go perfectly. 

He had poured over the plans for hours with Lui, ensuring that nothing could go wrong. 

So of course, something went wrong. 

The dynamite didn’t fucking blow. 

Tyler gripped the reigns so tight in his hands that his knuckles turned white. He saw Craig running towards them, heard him shrieking at them to follow the train, saw it enter the tunnel. 

“Get on the damn train!” Tyler shouted, spurring his horse into a sprint to get to the other side of the ridge, where the tunnel would spit the train back out. 

The train was speeding underneath them; there was maybe a twenty foot drop. Tyler didn’t hesitate, damn near falling off his horse in his haste to jump onto the train. 

He landed with a heavy  _ oomph _ , definitely landing on his leg wrong. He’d feel it later, but right now that was the furthest thing from his mind. 

Gun drawn, he moved forward up the train. 

He heard a couple thumps behind him, and then one further below. 

Lanai and Nogla had made it onto the train fine enough, but Brian didn’t, landing too close to the edge and flying off from his momentum. 

“He’ll be fine, let’s go!” Nogla shouted, pulling Tyler forward. “What’s the new plan?” 

“Get the goddamn train to stop,” Tyler spat. He spotted movement up ahead of them, and prepared for a shootout.

He dropped down onto the next car, a flat platform carrying various crates. There was a guard, whose life he ended shortly. 

Nogla shot a guard coming down the train from the next car while Lanai jumped down, and the three of them kept pushing. 

“Do you know how to stop a train?” Lanai asked, ducking behind a crate when three more guards showed up. 

“Kind of,” Tyler shouted, frustration getting the best of him. He stood from his cover, firing shots as rapidly as he dared to, killing the guards quickly. His patience for this bullshit was gone. 

He pushed forward, shooting with no regard. He was vaguely aware of the other two gunslingers behind him, providing cover as best as they could, but his main focus was getting to the goddamn engine and stopping this train. 

The take better be fucking worth it. 

Due to his extreme tunnel vision, Tyler completely missed the train engineer hiding in his station. 

When Tyler jumped down from the car that was carrying the coal to fuel the train, the engineer whacked him in the face with a shovel. Pain exploded in Tyler’s face, a loud crack resonated in his mind, and he met the floor of the car in a single moment.

The engineer didn’t get to gloat for very long - a bullet soon found its home in his chest, courtesy of Nogla. 

Tyler got up, and found himself in the engineer’s car. The train’s controls were in front of him, and he didn’t really know what much of it did. Once upon a time, he’d made himself learn how trains worked so situations like this wouldn’t fucking happen, but his dumb brain lost all that knowledge. 

A large level wielded to the floor surely had to be the brake though. Tyler pulled it down, and sure enough the wheels of the train began screaming in their protest against the rails. 

He didn’t waste a moment; he rushed off the train, took cover behind some rocks, and waited for the rest of the guards to pile out. 

As Craig watched the train continue to speed through the tracks without getting blown up, an indescribable anger flowed through his entire being. 

He had needed this job to  _ perfectly _ . After the fuck-up that was Blackwater, his credibility was riding on this job to happen flawlessly. 

So of course, some dumbass had to fuck it up. 

And sure, maybe he didn’t need to scream at Tyler to follow the train, or shout at the people on his team, but he was on edge. 

He took off on his own, urging his horse as fast as she could go without giving a single shit whether his team was following him. 

Thankfully, they were. This would be easier with backup. 

“Guns out, be ready for a fight when we catch up with them!” Craig shouted behind him, readying his own pistols. 

He saw the glints of guns out the corners of his eyes, and grinned. This job would go just fine or God help him. 

Chrissy saw the moment Craig realized the job went wrong. She saw the anger, the raging  _ fury _ that overtook his face for a single moment before he controlled his facial expression. 

She knew that if this job didn’t go right, there would be hell to pay. 

When they had rounded around the mountain to get to the other side of the tunnel, she saw Brian crumpled on the ground and attempting to drag himself towards somewhere. 

“Go on, I’ll get him,” She called to the other three. 

She grabbed Brian, hoisting him up onto her horse as gently as she could. She ignored him crying out as his leg was jostled - it was definitely broken.

“You gonna be alright, cowboy?” She asked, kicking her horse into a sprint. 

“I’ll be fine,” He spat, hands clenching as he held onto her sides. She said nothing about it, just ignored the pain. 

When they arrived at the train, there was a full shootout. She gave Brian her pistol, took her rifle, and ran into the midst of it. 

When the smoke cleared, Tyler allowed himself to breathe. Most of the shooting was over; there was a group of men holed up in the last car, but they could deal with that later. 

He did a quick head count, and saw all seven of the others around him. No one had died, which was already better than Blackwater. 

He went over to the others, looking them all over to insure there weren’t any injuries. His heart seized a little when he saw Evan gripping his shoulder, but it was too dark to see if he was injured, especially with his black coat obscuring any blood. 

“Are you alright?” Tyler ignored everyone around them and went straight to his lover. 

“Are you?” Evan shot back, eyes going down to his obviously-injured leg.

Knowing better than to push the issue of their health - they could patch up during the move to Valentine - he just nodded. “Yes, let’s get the money and go.”

“There’s a few in the last car,” Craig told him. “Leviticus Cornwall’s private car.” 

“You didn’t say this was a Cornwall train!” Chrissy snapped, getting right up in Craig’s face in her anger. She didn’t give a damn about his temper, she didn’t give a shit about his ego, she gave a shit about pissing off one of the richest men in the country and painting a target on all their heads. 

“That doesn’t make a difference, a train is a train!” Craig shouted, hands going up to grip at his hair. 

Tyler groaned and walked past the both of them towards the private car. “What are you boys planning in there?” He asked, projecting his voice into something he hoped was calming. His head hurt like a bitch and his leg throbbed and he was fairly certain his nose was broken, so he just wanted the money and wanted to go. “Listen to me, we don’t want to kill any one of you.” he gave a sly smile to his gang, finding dark humor despite the situation. “Well, any  _ more _ of you. But trust me, we will.” 

“I work for Leviticus Cornwall!” One of the boys announced. 

“Come on, boys.” 

“We got our orders!” 

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Okay, you asked for it. Five. Four. Three, two one.” 

Dead silence. 

“Seems out friends have gone deaf.” He stepped back, falling into line with his gang. “Let’s wake them up!” 

All eight of them opened fire onto the door to the car, shooting out the locks several times over. 

“Alright!” Tyler shouted. He sort of regretted that last move - the gunfire did nothing for his headache - but it usually scares the victims into complacency. “Please, step on out with your hands in the air.” 

They waited a single moment, then the boys seemed to come to their senses. One of them kicked the door clean off its hinges, and lead the rest out. They exited in a line, weapons nowhere to be seen and hands up.

“I promise you boys, we don’t wanna kill you, we just wanna rob your boss.” Tyler turned to his gang. “Marcel, Nogla, check them for their weapons. If they try anything, beat them. Chrissy, Craig, Evan, go search the train.”

Tyler waited as his gang did what they were told, keeping his eyes and weapon trained on the four men in front of him. He pondered what to do with them, whether he should let them live or not. He wasn’t heartless, he didn’t necessarily want to kill them. But witnesses could be a real bitch.

There was a small pop sounding from inside the train, and then Chrissy whooped. “We got this bitch open!” 

There was the sound of rustling, some indistinguishable noises, and Tyler was growing ever impatient.

“Let’s go!” He barked.

The three outlaws emerged a moment later. Evan held a few stacks of cash that he stuffed into his satchel, Chrissy held a couple bottles of expensive-looking bottles of liquor, and Craig presented a stack of papers with an air of such pride that Tyler half-felt like slapping the smile off his face. 

He just took the papers instead and inspected them. 

“Bearer bonds,” He noted, thumbing through the thick stack. 

“Worth a whole lot if sold proper,” Craig added, smile widening. 

“Alright, good job, boys!” Tyler tucked the papers into his coat, and headed for his horse. “Craig and Nogla, stay behind and get rid of this mess. The rest of us, let’s head back and help with the move.” 

“What should we do with these guys?” Nogla asked, gesturing to the four bound men. 

“Kill ‘em, leave ‘em, who cares. Just make sure they can’t send anyone after us.” Tyler mounted his horse after that, waited for the others to do the same, and they rode off. 

If anyone heard the four gunshots that sounded not long before they left the scene, no one said a thing. 

If anyone noticed how Nogla would hardly look at Craig after that, how his fists would clench at the mere sight of the British man, no one said a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now they start a new chapter of their lives. If you know the events of the game, I'm definitely changing a decent amount of them because I can and no one can stop me.


	4. comin' round the mountain, here she comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang moves on to settle in a new place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slower chapter, but with some happy things.

The ride to Valentine was difficult, arduous, and fucking boring. Brian had never felt more restless in his entire life. 

Due to his broken leg, he had to ride with all the other injured people, in what he dubbed as the “crippled wagon”. He sat on one bench, his leg propped up on the other bench. Luke was laid on the floor, with Tyler sprawled on the other bench. Evan drove with Brock Barrus beside him while Lauren rode in the back with the rest of them, tending to their wounds every couple hours. 

Brian was a little surprised when the Barrus’ said they would come with them on their move - he half expected them to rob them blind and steal away into the night. But not everyone was inherently a thief. 

He liked the Barrus’. Lauren was kind, and Brock was funny. He was happy to ride with them, but with how slow they had to go with the whole camp moving, it was just boring as all hell. Moving camp was never his favorite thing to do, but it was always a necessity.

The ride took the majority of the day, from dawn until a little before dusk. The timing was rushed, because of the train; the thaw wasn’t as great as it could’ve been, so the wagons would get stuck in snow or mud or muddy snow or snowy mud. 

But they eventually got off that godforsaken mountain. 

Horseshoe Overlook was a nice little clearing set up on a hill. The woods around it were lush, alive with the vitality of spring. It was  _ green. _

__

Brian couldn’t be more excited to be out of the snow. He was just  _ very _ upset that they were moving further east. 

__

The gang had moved to a new state entirely. A new state of opportunities, of people to scam, of banks to rob. It was as invigorating as it was infuriating.

__

If only he didn’t have a broken leg. 

__

__

Evan watched with weary eyes as Tyler limped around their new camp. Simone was getting everyone who wasn’t injured moving to set up their tents, everyone fluttered about in a haze of activity.

__

Tyler hobbled up to the table towards the center of the clearing, laiden with cups and a pitcher of water. Craig was currently taking a break there, along with Chrissy and Kelly. Brian was sitting on one chair with his leg propped up on another, and Brock stood behind him. 

__

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have survived!” Tyler announced, falling into another one of his speeches. His voice grew in volume and confidence, gathering everyone’s attention. “Now, it is time to prosper!” 

__

“We were about to prosper in Blackwater,” Brian quipped, unable to hold his tongue any longer. It had been building for a while, his feelings over what had happened. “Then Craig told you about the ferry, and you suddenly seemed to just lose the ability to think rationally.” 

__

Evan, who had been passing by with an armful of firewood, sensed the drop in mood. The air cooled down so quick it felt as if they were back in the mountains. He dropped the wood on the ground and went over to the table, ready to intervene if necessary. 

__

“We have all made mistakes over the years, Brian.” Tyler’s voice was pure ice, his gaze pure fire. “Every last one of us. But I kept us together, I kept the nooses off our necks, I kept us alive to fight another day.” He looked to Evan, eyebrows raised and expecting some sort of support. 

__

But Evan had none to give on this matter. He could only shrug, and soften the blow. “The ferry could’ve worked out, but it didn’t. I feel like you could’ve seen that it wouldn’t.” 

__

Tyler scoffed, and shook his head with the smile of a mad man. He walked off as fast as he could, towards the opening of the clearing, where the cliff faces the open land. 

__

Already feeling guilty, Evan caught up with him easily. “I’m sorry, Ty, I’m just worried. We’ve all been through a lot, and we’re so far from our dream of owning a ranch in the west. Do you even still want that to happen?” 

__

“Of course I do,” Tyler snapped. His hands went up to his hair, gripping at the roots. “You think I don’t realize that Blackwater went wrong? You think I don’t know that I fucked up? You think I haven’t been trying my fucking hardest to get us all back on our feet and that I can’t account for every little goddamn thing that goes wrong? I’m not a fucking prophet, Evan, I thought you’d gotten that through your thick fucking skull by now.” 

__

Evan took a step backwards, eyes wide and heart hurting. They hadn’t fought like this in so long, he’d forgotten how much it stings. “Sorry,” he murmured, dropping his gaze to the grass. “I just worry.”

__

Sensing that he had gone too far, Tyler softened. His anger was fleeting, always coming in waves. He was just so  _ sick _ of being blamed for what had happened. 

__

But making everything about him wouldn’t help anyone. 

__

Tyler held out his hand, palm up, towards his lover. Evan looked confused, but allowed Tyler to take his hand. 

__

“Look,” Tyler murmured, leading him over to the cliff edge.

__

The sight before them was truly something to behold. Rolling green hills, the mountains in the distance, a brilliant sunset painting the sky with beauty that only Mother Nature could provide. 

__

“We’re safe,” He continued, bringing his arm around Evan’s shoulders. “We’ll make a bit of money, and then we’ll move. Out west, beyond Uncle Sam. Our dream ranch is within our reach, Ev. I promise you.” 

__

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Evan warned him softly, not taking his eyes off the sunset. “But I trust you’ll try your best.”

__

__

“Sweetie, you and your husband have been set over here,” Simone said, leading Missus Barrus over to their tent. They got their own separate tent, albeit a small one, that was next to the other two tents the rest of the ladies shared. 

__

“Thank you,” Lauren said, shocked at the hospitality. “Thank you so much.” 

__

Simone just smiled. “Of course. Come see me when you’re ready to work, we’ll need all hands on deck for the foreseeable future..” She left after that, to go yell at Kelly for sitting on her ass. 

__

Lauren swallowed thickly, fighting a sudden wave of nausea that she knew wasn’t just from the woman’s words. 

__

“Hey, honey, I - what’s wrong?” Brock had entered the tent silently, not giving Lauren the time she needed to hide her expression. 

__

“Nothing,” She tried anyways, to no avail; her husband could see her through and through. 

__

He took her hand, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. “What’s wrong?” He repeated, a bit softer this time. 

__

His love, the pure, unadulterated love that flowed from her husband broke the damn. Lauren burst into tears, and was immediately swept into his arms. 

__

“I-I’m,” She choked on her words, but she needed to say it. She had to confirm it. “I’m pregnant.” 

__

Brock froze, and that only made her cry harder. Then he started rubbing her back again, shushing like he sometimes did their horse, comforting her while trying to process his own thoughts. 

__

He didn’t remember how they ended up on the ground, holding each other tighter than they did that night their entire life was burned to ashes. 

__

“That’s good, right?” Brock found it within himself to ask, pulling away just enough to look his wife in her reddened eyes. “We’re gonna have a baby!” He saw her reluctance, her grimace. “Do you want the baby?” 

__

“Yes,” She breathed, “So much. But… what if they kick us out?” 

__

It all clicked for Brock. Why Lauren was crying, why she wouldn’t let herself be excited when they had been trying for so very long to have a baby. They had put it off when they first got married, wanting to be secure in their lives before they committed to children. So they could give their children the very best lives. 

__

And all that was gone. But maybe it didn’t have to be. 

__

“What if they don’t?” Brock gestured around them, to the sounds of the camp around them. “They’re a real family, they care for each other. They protect each other.” 

__

“But not us. We aren’t part of their family.” 

__

“Maybe not yet... they’re good people, they’ll give us a chance.” 

__

Lauren shook her head. “They’re criminals!” 

__

“You wanted to stay with them in the first place, what changed?” 

__

“There’s a child’s life on the line, that’s what’s changed!” 

__

Brock shushed her, bringing her back into his arms. He didn’t want the rest of the camp to hear their business. “Let’s talk to Tyler first, alright? We’ll go from there.” 

__

“Okay. I love you.” 

__

“And I love you.” 

__

__

Chrissy hadn’t meant to overhear the Barrus’ entire conversation. She had just been passing through, bringing Evan’s tent over to where they would set it up. 

__

Then she heard Lauren crying. And Lauren saying she was pregnant. 

__

And all the fears that the couple shared. 

__

Chrissy wanted to storm in there and reassure them right there and then that they would be fine. But she couldn’t. 

__

She did immediately begin compiling a list of the jobs they could do around camp to stay useful in the eyes of everyone else. She wanted them to stay, she wanted them to feel welcome here. This was their home, now. She intended to make it feel that way. 

__

She waited until she saw the Barrus’ leave their tent, and she ducked into Tyler’s. 

__

__

Tyler looked up at the intrusion, frowning when he saw who it was. 

__

“What do you want?” he asked, snapping shut his book. He’d been trying to read after having very little time to do so in the last few weeks, and Chrissy never allowed him to do something so simple as reading. 

__

“Don’t mind me,” Chrissy waved him off and took a seat on the other chair that occupied his tent. She said nothing else, just sat down and took out her knife to sharpen it. 

__

Tyler, feeling equal parts suspicious and relieved, went back to reading while keeping an eye on the woman from his peripheral vision. 

__

His wariness grew when he heard two pairs of footsteps approaching his tent. 

__

“Can we come in?” Mister Barrus asked politely.

__

“Sure.” Tyler shut his book once more and laid on his cot. 

__

He saw Mister Barrus lift the tent flap for his wife, then head inside and making sure it was closed before facing the man. 

__

Tyler stood, acknowledging the couple with a nod. “How can I help you?” 

__

“May we speak privately?” Missus Barrus asked, flicking her gaze towards the other woman still sitting there and sharpening her knife. 

__

“I overheard, I know what this is about,” Chrissy came clean, putting her knife away and looking up. “Pretend I’m not here, just say your piece.” 

__

“What is this about?” Tyler asked, drawing Lauren’s attention towards himself and away from the other woman. 

__

Lauren took a deep, somewhat shuddering breath. “I’m pregnant,” She said, voice wavering but strong. 

__

Tyler cocked his head. “Congratulations. Why does this require a private meeting?” 

__

Lauren faltered; she was not expecting this response. 

__

Chrissy, though, was. “You’re not kicking them out for it?” 

__

“Why would I?” Tyler figured this was planned on her part, and was quick to act. “As long as you two continue to pull your weight like you have been, there’s no issue. I’m happy for you.” 

__

Brock eyed Tyler, confusion warring with distrust and relief. “Alright then. Thank you.” The two of them left, taking their air of confusion with them. 

__

Tyler sank back down onto his cot, and grabbed for his book. 

__

“They thought you were going to kick them out,” Chrissy told him. 

__

“I figured as much when you asked me if I was.” 

__

“You’re useless.” She stormed out of his tent, calling out rather loudly for Kelly. 

__

Tyler merely sighed and continued his reading.

__

__

The rest of the gang found out later that night. They had a celebration, or at least, as close to one they could get with what limited supplies were available.

__

Kelly had been lingering near the edge of the camp, somewhat partaking in the party but mostly fulfilling her duty of being on watch. 

__

Watch was pretty boring, but it was fundamental to the safety of the camp, especially nowadays with Pinkertons on their trail and  _ especially _ after robbing a Leviticus Cornwall train. 

__

Lanai had filled her in on that part, and the pit in Kelly’s stomach only grew. 

__

Cornwall had enough money to supply the entire Pinkerton Detective Agency for years upon years. 

__

Kelly was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind her. She glanced behind her, and saw it was Mister Barrus. 

__

“Enjoying the party?” She asked, resting her rifle on her shoulder and leaning against a tree. 

__

Brock nodded. “It’s nice, thank you.” 

__

“We hope you’re happy with the news.” She dug through her pockets for her cigarettes and matches. She offered one to Brock, who declined politely enough. 

__

He waited until she took a puff and exhaled the smoke. “You’re the hunter for the camp, right?” 

__

“I wouldn’t say  _ the _ hunter, but definitely the best.” It was common knowledge amongst the others; she was just in tune with nature, in a way that most of her beloved family of idiotic outlaws wasn’t. 

__

She remembered the first and only time she’d tried taking Evan hunting. The only rabbit they’d managed to shoot was more buckshot than meat after he’d had his way.

__

“I hunt too. I could help you bring in food for the camp.” 

__

Kelly eyed Brock down, eyebrow raised and gaze hardened. When he didn’t back down under her scrutiny, she gave him a half-nod. “I’ll take you with me tomorrow. We’ll see how you do.” 

__

She sensed his need to prove himself, his need to be more useful to the camp than cooking meals or washing up. And while those were important chores that needed to be done, she could understand his desires. She could relate, and if she was a gambling woman, she’d bet her precious mare that most of the others in camp could as well. 

__

She’d give him a chance, if nothing else. 

__


	5. shopping and fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets to see what town of Valentine is like, and it isn't super rosy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, i've been on a roll with these updates. So of course, the next one will probably take a while, school's been kicking my bootybutt lately. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this extra-long chapter!

“Careful, now,” Kelly instructed. “Look where your aiming, but not with your eyes. Look with your heart, or you’ll miss every time. Only hold your breath the  _ moment _ you shoot.” 

Brock tried his best to listen to her instructions; he kept breathing, but very slowly. He didn’t aim with the bow, trying to aim with his heart. He held his breath, let the arrow fly, and a second later, winced at the dull thunk of it impaling its target. 

“Congratulations,” Kelly clapped him on the back before getting to her feet. 

Brock stayed where he was, crouching on the forest floor, for a moment longer before he realized that he had done it. He had killed a deer with a bow for the first time! 

It was a lot more frustrating than using a gun, and yet more satisfying.

“Why can’t we use my rifle again?” He asked lightly as he went over to her. 

“You know why, too much noise. Will scare off the game for miles and maybe draw unwanted human attention.” Kelly examined the body of the deer. The arrow had hit pretty low on its throat, just an inch away from too low to be fatal. “You’re a pretty good shot, all things considered. You need to get better, but you’re at a decent starting place. If anything, you’re already better than Evan. Best gunslinger in the country, I’d wager, but give him a bow and arrows and he’ll just start stabbing shit with them.” 

Brock chuckled at that image. “So we can use that?” He nudged the carcass with his boot. 

“Duh. We just need a couple more, then we’ll head back to camp.” 

It took a couple weeks, but slowly, the mood of the camp improved. Evan could see firsthand in Tyler. The man was smiling more, eyes sparkling a little brighter, mind thinking a little clearer. He was coming up with more plans, and some of them were almost logical.

He was almost excited for the future and the opportunities it would bring. The people they could rob, the things they could steal. 

Thoughts of Blackwater were slowly fading altogether. 

Marcel had been chopping firewood when Simone caught up to him. He paused his arduous chore, and found his heart beating a little harder, but not from the exercise. 

Simone could light up a room just by entering it, and she was so pretty and kind and caring and just one of the best women that Marcel had ever met. His brain stopped working more often than not when she approached, but he tried to keep his senses today; she looked worried. 

“Honey, could you run into town for some supplies? We’re running low on just about everything, and no one seems to be getting any better,” Simone told him, speaking a bit quicker in her frantic way. 

Marcel laid a grimy hand on her shoulder, and offered his best comforting smile that he’s pretty sure just looked horrid. “Yeah, sure, I’ll get you whatever you need. Just, um, write me a list and I’ll go get it right now.” 

The smile she gave him was worth more than a thousand gold bars. “You’re an angel, I’ll be right back.” 

Marcel’s heart fluttered, but he knew she didn’t really return his affections. She called everyone - well, mostly everyone - an angel.

“You going into town?” 

Marcel whirled around to see Chrissy and Brian, the latter held up on a piss-poor crutch the former had fashioned from a broken branch. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“We wanna go with you, dumbass,” Chrissy said. “Been cooped up here far too long.” 

“We haven’t even been here a month.” 

“And neither of us have left the camp in that long. Just let us go.” 

“You aren’t even supposed to be walking around!” Marcel gestured wildly to Brian, who chuckled.

“I can do what I damn well please,” The Irishman said. Then, he saw Simone walking back over, and ducked behind the closest tent to avoid her wrath.

“Here’s what I need, doll. Again, thank you so much.” Simone handed him the list, her hand lingering a little longer on Marcel’s than it probably needed too. “And tell Brian that if he breaks his leg again, I’m going to cut it off and feed it to the wolves.” She walked away, leaving Marcel with hearts in his eyes. 

“Damn, she’s harsh.” 

“God, she’s great.” 

Chrissy and Marcel looked at each other. He could feel his cheeks burning, so that was the perfect time to change the subject. “So, going into town?”

Tyler found them just as they were about to set off. “If you’re heading into Valentine, maybe see if you can catch up with the boys there, Evan, Craig, and Nogla.”

“Will do, boss.” Marcel snapped the reigns, eager to get out of camp. He was a little disappointed they had to use a wagon - couldn’t go nearly as fast as solo riding, and it’s been a long while since his poor horse has been able to properly stretch her legs - but stupid Brian and his stupid leg necesitated it. 

And they ended up taking Aliyah along as well, so she could get some fresh air too. 

And of course, Chrissy and Aliyah both meant no filter on their words. 

“So that Simone, huh?” Chrissy asked, poking Marcel’s shoulder several times the second they pulled out of the woods surrounding camp. 

“What about her?” As he spoke, he could feel his cheeks heating.

“It’s obvious you wanna put yer dick in her,” Brian piped up from the wagon. His words were quickly followed by a loud smack, courtesy of Aliyah. 

“You like her,” Chrissy corrected. “A lot.” 

“And?” 

“And you should get her something from the shops. A new hankerchief, some gloves maybe. Something nice. Something red, she looks nice in red.” 

“She does look nice in red,” Marcel agreed quietly.

Valentine was a livestock town if ever there was one. The entire town consisted of two perpendicular streets, bordered by the usual shops, a couple saloons, a hotel, and a sheriff’s office. The rest of the town was fenced off for the animals, with barns and a stable or two consisting of the last of the border between the muddy streets of Valentine and the open fields of the Heartlands.

Plenty of drunk, sad fools to rob, too.

“I’ll get the supplies we need, the rest of y’all do some scouting or whatever, but do it quietly,” Marcel told them as he parked the wagon towards the back of the town. “We’re mean to be lying low.” 

“Yessir, Mister Boss Man, sir.” Brian gave a half-assed salute as he hobbled out of the wagon and into the mud. 

“Keep that leg elevated, Simone’ll have your hide if you get your cast dirty,” Chrissy scolded, helping him up onto the platforms that the shops sat on. 

Marcel just shook his head, and decided to finally read the list of stuff Simone needed. It was the usual, bandages, tonics, salves, but with an extra bit scribbled at the bottom. 

_ Anything to help with pregnancy sickness. Lauren needs it. _

“Then she’ll have it,” Marcel muttered to himself. He’d only had a few conversations with the Barrus’ in the few weeks they’ve been traveling together, but they seemed like good people. Probably too good to be traveling with the likes of them, but it was their choice to stay.

The doctor’s office was a dingy little building, but the doc himself was a seemingly nice old man. 

“I need these things,” Marcel said simply, plopping the list in front of the doc. “And I’ve got no idea where to find them.” 

“I have them here, son, just give me a moment.” The old man put on his reading glasses, and set about gathering the various items. 

In less than ten minutes, Marcel left with his satchel full of medical things. He decided then that he would head into the general shop to try and find a new hankerchief for Simone. She had lost hers during the move, and he wanted to do something for her since she’s been working so hard these last few weeks.

As he walked along the platforms, he tripped over someone’s leg. 

“Ay, buddy,” Marcel started to say, ready to fight, only to realize it was Brian, sitting on the bench stationed outside the general goods store. And the shit-eating grin the man bore meant he did it on purpose. “Shithead,” Marcel grumbled, kicking Brian’s cast with more force than he should. 

“Ow!” Brian yanked his leg up onto the bench, scrunching his eyebrows in pain. “I’m injured, you can’t hurt me!” 

“I just did, now scoot over.” With a sigh, Marcel plopped himself down on the bench next to Brian. “What’cha up to?” 

“Waitin’ on Chrissy and Aliyah. We’re headin’ to the saloon after, to meet up wit’ the boys.” 

Marcel hummed and stretched out his legs before standing up. He was about to pass Brian before he grabbed his arm, yanking him back onto the bench. 

“See that man over there, starin’ at us?” The Irishman murmured, tapping his fingers against his arm, a nervous tic he’s had since he was a child. “He’s been there since we got here.” 

Marcel looked over, and indeed, there was a man staring at them. He was sitting on his horse, and wearing fancy clothes. Definitely not from around here. 

The man urged his horse over to them, and pointed at them. “You two, didn’t I see you fellows in Blackwater?” 

The outlaws shared a look, both immediately getting ready for the worst.

“No, sir, we ain’t from around there,” Brian answered, sitting up as much as he could. 

“You were definitely there, I saw you! You and a bunch of others!” 

“Us? No. Impossible.” Marcel stood up, and beckoned the man closer. “Listen, buddy, come here a second.” 

Then the man turned tail and ran, spurring his horse into a sprint. 

“I don’t like this,” Brian told him, already shoving Marcel off the platform. 

“I don’t either. You stay here, I’m gonna go have a word with our new friend.” Marcel ran for the nearest horse to him, jumping on and kicking into action before he even properly had the reigns in his hands. 

“Be careful,” Brian warned him. 

As Marcel left the town, he heard someone shouting about him stealing their horse, but he ignored it for now. He had bigger problems to worry about. 

Like the man now racing through the maze of fences and out onto the open field. 

“Buddy, I just want to talk!” Marcel yelled after him, doing his best to keep pace. 

“Stay away from me!” The man kept going, making it to the fields and going off the path. 

Luckily, the dumbass didn’t see the cliff coming up; if it weren’t for his horse having a higher intelligence than its rider, the man would’ve been thrown down it. As it was, the horse bucked him off and he fell, barely hanging on with his hands. 

“Oh, dear God, help me!” The man cried out as Marcel pulled up to where he hung. 

Marcel merely walked over to the man, and stood there above him with his arms crossed. He was very briefly crossed with the choice of killing the man or not. He decided against it; stirring trouble this close to camp was too dangerous right now. 

“Why’re you telling lies about myself and my friends?” He asked, keeping his voice low and hopefully menacing. 

“I-I’m not, friend, I-I got it all wrong! Now, please, help me up!” 

Marcel crouched down over the ledge, so he was bearing down on the man. “We’ve never been in Blackwater.” 

“Then why did you chase me?” The man was growing ever more frantic. 

“We’ve got unfortunate faces,” Marcel said with a shrug. His words were true in more ways than one; Brian’s face was truly unfortunate.

“I-I do too, trust me, I get it! Please help me up, sir, oh, please!” The man sounded close to sobbing at this point as his hands began losing their grip. “I-I’m slipping, please!” 

With an overdramatic groan, Marcel offered his hand. The man grabbed onto it, and he was lifted off the edge of the cliff as if Marcel were simply lifting a sack of flour. 

The man collapsed onto the solid ground, laying on his back and staring up at the sky with relief in his eyes. 

Marcel cleaned off his hands and tilted his head. “You okay, partner?” 

“No,” The man answered simply. “I’m a mess.” 

And Marcel couldn’t agree more. He didn’t say so, he just lifted the man onto his feet and brushed off his jacket. “You ain’t dead.”

Not yet, anyways. He still hadn’t figured out what to do about this man. 

“There is that.” The man held out a limp hand. “Jimmy Brooks.” 

Marcel eyed his dirtied hand. “I think it’s best if we pretend this never happened.” 

“Oh, I agree.” The man pointed at him with a smile. “You saved my life. You’re a good man, and err-” He patted down his pockets with wild ferocity, eventually pulling out something silver. “You want a pen? It’s one of them steel ones.” He seemed as desperate to appease Marcel as he was to be rid of him. 

Marcel took the pen, because why not. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you. But I’m not a good man, Jimmy Brooks, not usually.” He took a couple steps closer towards the cowardly man. “See, I was in Blackwater. I killed people in Blackwater, and something tells me that maybe I should’ve killed you.” He took one more step closer, until bare inches separated him and the man. “Should I have killed you, Jimmy Brooks?” 

The way the man’s eyes widened was damn near comical. “Me?” He looked around him, as if there was someone to help him out of this. “I-I never saw you,” He promised, slowly backing away from the outlaw in front of him. “N-not here, not now, not ever!” 

Marcel chuckled, patting the man on his shoulders and wiping away some more dirt. “Jimmy Brooks. I’ll remember that, I’ve got a good memory.” 

“I don’t! Not a lick of sense!” He ran onto his horse, spurring the poor thing was again into a sprint, in the opposite direction of Valentine.

Marcel watched him go, still of half a mind to just shoot him in the back right then. But he trusted the man was scared enough to not talk. 

If not, Jimmy Brooks would be getting a surprise visit in the night.

Brian hadn’t moved from his spot for a solid ten minutes after Marcel had sped off after that one idiot. 

It was worrying him; either something was wrong, or Marcel was hiding a body. 

“Bri-” 

“Shit!” Brian jumped, accidently bumping his broken leg against the bench and sending a quick wave of pain throughout his entire being. “Fuck.” 

“Sorry,” Chrissy patted his shoulders and didn’t actually sound apologetic. “What’s got you worked up?” 

“Someone recognized us from Blackwater, Marcel went after- speak of the Devil.” 

Marcel came up to them, almost jogging through the mud. He didn’t seem utterly pissed, which was good. 

“Everything alright?” Brian asked lowly, wary of passersby. 

A brief nod. “Everything’s fine. He ain’t talking to anyone.” 

“You killed him?”

“I ain’t stupid,” Marcel thwacked Brian on the head. “He’s alive, and won’t talk.” He walked away, towards the saloon. “I need a damn drink.”

As Tyler said, the three boys were indeed at the saloon. Craig was chatting with the bartender, Evan was engaging in a drinking contest with some stranger, and Nogla was winning spectacularly at poker towards the back. 

Marcel went over to Evan, and - after a moment of heavy consideration - Brian went to the bar. He didn’t much want to talk to the idiot stationed there, but he figured he might as well see if they found anything. 

Brian tossed a couple coins onto the bar, ordering a whiskey for himself and Craig, despite the other already having a drink in his hand. 

“What do you want?” Craig spat before the other man had barely sat down on the stool. 

“A drink, Christ, what’s got you in a pisspoor mood?” The second the bartender poured the whiskey, Brian knocked it back. He sensed a long conversation. 

“Looking at you, sitting on your ass and not going out there and finding leads, that’s what got me in a bad mood.” Craig didn’t bother touching the drink he’d been bought. “You been moping around camp for the last month, can’t even go and find one damn lead and we’ve been here damn near a month.” 

“You try walking with a broken leg. Here, I’ll even help you break it.” 

“Watch it.” 

“You find anything useful?” Brian spoke through gritted teeth. 

Craig waited a second to speak, whether because he didn’t find jack shit or because he didn’t want to tell Brian. Either way, it was annoying. Eventually, he huffed, “Not yet. Been focused on keeping the other two from making shit worse.” 

“You aren’t out here to be a nanny, you’re out here to find leads.” 

“Shut the hell-” 

“You cheating bastard, I’ll put you in the ground myself!” 

All attention in the saloon was drawn to the man, face red and hands shaking with fury, holding a knife out towards Nogla, 

“I’m not cheatin’, you’re just shit at poker, how is that my fault?” Nogla said, always making things worse for himself. 

“I’ll kill you!” The man launched into a fight, and soon it seemed the entire bar was involved. 

The women and lesser men cleared out while every other got involved in a fight of some kind. Craig shot off his stool to go get into the thick of it, while Evan could be seen trying to fight off three idiots at once. 

Itching to fight but knowing that his leg would only make shit worse, Brian just stayed where he was. He grabbed the drink he’d bought Craig, and sipped while watching the brawls. He noticed the bartender fluttering about, shouting for them to stop. 

“You ain’t helping,” Brian told him, fishing another coin out of his pocket. “Have yourself a drink and enjoy the show.” 

“They’re breaking all my furniture!” The bartender lamented - all the while pocketing the coin and pouring them each a whiskey. 

“Better your furniture than your bones.”

Luke waited until he knew for sure that half the camp was gone until he called Ohm into his tent. He wasn’t allowed to leave his cot for more than a few moments at a time, and usually it was to relieve himself. 

He’d come down with infection from his time with the wolves, and the bite on his left thigh almost did him in. But Simone kept him on this side of the abyss, through fever and all. 

He was almost well enough to take a walk by himself.

He was more than well enough to make a decision about his future. 

“What’s up?” Ohm sounded cheerful as he entered the tent, taking a seat on the chair next to the bed without a second thought. 

Luke had considered all the different ways to approach this; subtle, gentle, outright, even apologetic. 

But he could only ever be blunt. 

“I’m leavin’, Ohm. The second I’m well enough to do so, I’m leavin’.” 

Ohm’s silence was born of many things. Shock, definitely, because he didn’t think Luke - one of the best gunmen they had, one of the strongest outlaws they knew - would ever leave the gang. But also, something akin to acceptance. Ohm had seen Luke’s mood steadily dropping, had seen how he couldn’t bother to be involved in gang activity anymore. Knew something like this would come. 

“For how long?” Ohm eventually asked. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Dunno. As long as I need.” If Luke was surprised at Ohm’s reaction, he didn’t show it. 

“What about Jonny?” They still didn’t know where he was, could only hope that he was still kicking.

“You’ll be here to take care of him.” Because someone needed to take care of the man that was by all accounts their younger brother. 

And Ohm nodded, because that confirmed that this was something Luke needed to do on his own. “Please be safe. For me. For us.” 

Luke couldn’t promise that. He didn’t know what would happen when he left, he only knew that his regard for his own life was shaky at best. “I love you, Ohmie. You and Jonny are my brothers, until the end.” 

“Until the end.” Ohm reached out for Luke’s hand, hanging limp over the edge of the bed. It was a small comfort, knowing that Luke was still there, if only for the time being. The knowledge that his brother, not by blood but by something stronger, was alive. Had survived the infection, the fever, the worst of all it. 

Ohm ended up taking a nap there, resting his head on the edge of the bed while Luke dozed with him. 

If Evan knew that his day would end with him being thrown out of a window, he would’ve worn shittier clothes. 

Of course, he could never account for Nogla starting a bar fight, Evan getting involved in that bar fight,  _ everyone _ getting involved in the bar fight, and then a lumbering brute of a man coming down the stairs and ending the bar fight. 

And of course the brute targeted Evan, which mean he picked Evan up and tossed him out the window and into the muddy street. 

Covered in mud and bruised beyond belief, Evan was pissed. Pissed enough that when the brute came out of the bar, and taunted him by calling him a pretty boy, Evan did his best to take down the brute. 

Only Tyler got to call him pretty. 

And Kelly, but that was because Kelly did what Kelly wanted. 

Evan was dragged from his thoughts by a fist to his jaw, snapping his head with enough force to fucking  _ hurt _ . He responded by grabbing the brute’s arm, and wrestling him down into the mud. 

The fight was pretty damn unfair, but it still ended with Evan’s hand in the brute’s shirt, pinning him to the ground as best as he could. 

Just as he landed another punch to the brute’s jaw, the bartender came out to yell at him. 

“You already won, let him be!” 

“Yeah, you won, get off of him.” A familiar voice rang louder above the crowd that had gathered around them all. 

Evan let out a groan, and released his hold on the brute. He didn’t really want Tyler to see him like this - more mud than man, and hurting all over - but Tyler had seen him in worse conditions. 

He let Tyler disperse the crowd as he dragged himself over to the wash basin situated outside the general store, and got the mud off his hands and face. Judging from the grit he spat out, he was pretty sure he accidentally ate some of it during the struggle, so there was that. 

“You alright?” Tyler asked, having followed him once all those people were gone. 

“Sure,” Evan answered. Besides the aches and the twinge in his shoulder, he was peachy. Then, he saw the two men with Tyler, and his bruised jaw dropped. “Smitty? John?”

“The one, well two and only,” Smitty gave an overdramatic bow while John just crossed his arms with an amused smile.

“Shit, it’s you two,” A new voice entered the fray, being Craig’s as he left the bar, rubbing his jaw. “Thought you had gone for good.” 

“Craig, good to see you as well,” Smitty greeted him, and grinned at the others that had followed him. “Marcel, and of course, Brian and Nogla, everyone’s favorite Irishmen! You’re all looking well!” 

Evan huffed at that. They were all looking bruised and upset, but Smitty’s cheerfulness was infectious. 

“We’ve missed you,” John spoke up, not about to let his partner talk the entire time. “We went to Blackwater, looking for you boys.” 

“You’re not very popular there at the moment,” Smitty added with a grim smile. 

“No, we’re not,” Tyler agreed. “We left a lot of money there.” 

“And Jonathan.” 

Evan perked up at that, standing to his full height. “Jon? You found him?”

“We did. He’s being held by some bounty hunters, trying to see how much money they can get for him.” 

John turned to Tyler. “We  _ know  _ he’s in Blackwater, but there’s talk of moving him.”

“If we step foot in that city,” Nogla spoke, then paused, and spat out a glob of blood onto the ground. “We’re dead for sure.”

“You good?” Brian asked him with a grin. 

“Fuck off, I didn’t see you do shit-” 

“There’ll be Pinkertons for sure,” Evan interrupted loudly, drawing attention back to the mission at hand. “But we have to try.” 

“And we will,” Tyler promised him quickly. “Head back to camp and get Ohm, and take Smitty. Go find out what you can, and be careful.” 

“What about John?” Evan furrowed his brows; he knew the two of them didn’t like to be separated.

But John just waved. “I got shit to do, and besides, we found some leads for you all to get started on.” 

And that was that. 

Evan clapped Smitty on his back, and led him over to where his horse was hitched. “Let’s go get Jon back.”


	6. gunslingers all around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan, Smitty, and Ohm bring Jonathan back home, and Scotty makes a new friend.

“What if he’s still in the city?” Ohm wondered aloud. His thoughts had wandered, much to his chagrin. He’d been trying to focus on the task at hand - he was watching the city of Blackwater through his binoculars and taking stock of all the obstacles that stood in their way. 

So far it was only a constant patrol of Pinkertons, along with added amounts of lawmen stationed at nearly every corner of every street. It seemed they had truly left their touch on the city, for how paranoid the citizens were. Not for the first time, Ohm was grateful he hadn’t been there for what went down on that ferry.

He thought Evan hadn’t heard his question from the pause he gave. 

Then, “I’m not sure.” 

The unspoken agreement hung between them, heavy and unwelcome. If Jonathan was still in the city, they would have to leave him behind.

But it seemed that luck was on their side for once. 

“Boys!” Smitty came up the side of the hill they were on, trying his best to stay quiet and failing in his own excitement. “I found out where he is!” He crouched over to where they were laying on their stomachs on the small cliff. “Ike Skelding’s boys are holding him, transporting him up the river. He’ll be dropped off on the shore this evening, and they’re moving through an abandoned stretch of canyon through the night until they get him on a train to a federal prison.” 

“We really can’t break him out of there,” Ohm said immediately. “We’ll have to get him fresh off the boat.” 

“Which means we need to move now.” Evan stood, and soon the other two did as well. “I assume you know exactly where they’re taking him?” 

“I do indeed.” Smitty’s grin was bright, eager for action. “Let’s go.”

The ride to their lookout was only a couple hours, leaving them with some time to waste before sundown. 

Evan spent the time admiring their surroundings; they were situated on the top of a small canyon, overlooking the river where the boat would come up in an hour or so. Ohm spent the time whittling. 

Smitty spent the time talking. 

As much as Evan loved Smitty like a little brother, he’d forgotten the younger’s proclivity for incessant talking. The boy would talk for hours upon hours and yet manage to say nothing at all. 

It was impressive. Annoying at times, sure, but impressive. 

Smitty didn’t mind that neither of them were truly listening; he just told them all about his recent time away with John, recounting some stories that sounded entirely too false and some that were just plain ridiculous, and yet Evan had no doubt that Smitty was telling the truth. They were a gang of thieves and liars, but not to each other. 

It was one of Tyler’s codes: never steal from those who care for you, never lie to those who matter to you. If you did any of that, he would kick the offender out of camp until they learned their lesson and wouldn’t do it again. Or permanently, if he saw fit.

It was an easy enough lesson to learn. 

“Sun’s setting,” Ohm announced as he packed his current project back in his satchel. “We should mount up.” 

As the men got on their horses, Evan spotted the boat rounding a bend in the river. It was a ways down, but the faint figures of people on the bow were visible. 

It was a simple cargo ship, quite small compared to the industrial ones. 

They waited until it was closer, almost directly below them. Evan got out his binoculars, and watched the ship through them. On the bow of the ship were a group of four men trying and mostly failing to hold down one as they moved up the river.

“Is it Jon?” Ohm asked, nudging his horse to follow the ship’s trajectory at a slow pace. 

“Could be, not quite sure. He’s giving those bounty hunters quite a fight, so probably.” Evan lowered his binoculars to follow the other two men. 

“Should we attack as soon as we get him off the ship?” Smitty asked, keeping his voice low despite the distance between them and anyone who could possibly hear them.

Ohm shook his head. “Too many men. We should wait until they get him to their camp.” 

“Could be the same numbers there,” Evan reasoned. “We should try and do this quietly if we can.” 

“What do you know about Ike Skelding’s boys?” Ohm turned to face Smitty while keeping his eyes on the ship below. 

“Not much,” The younger answered, almost sounding rueful. “Big operation, decent name for themselves. More apt to taking prisoners alive though.” 

“They were probably using Jon to try and find the rest of us for our bounties.” Evan shook his head. “But they don’t know that he got separated and doesn’t know shit.” 

“Jon wouldn’t talk even if he did,” Ohm told him. 

They both have Jon long enough to know exactly how damn stubborn that man is. He wouldn’t betray the people he loved for anything in the world.

“Let’s move,” Smitty told them, taking the lead as he did. He urged his horse into a slow pace, just enough to follow the boat as it wound its way up the river. “We’re just three gentlemen on a ride, got that?” 

Evan got right behind Smitty, with Ohm behind him. They sure didn’t look like three gentlemen on a ride, trailing a bounty hunter ship and armed to the teeth. But whoever figured the truth out would mostly be met with a bullet through their skulls for the effort. 

They made their way around the cliffs, up to the edge of the canyon where the boat was being pulled up onto the shore by a small team of bounty hunters. 

“I spot six,” Ohm said, having taken out his binoculars again. “That’s definitely Jon, he’s putting up a real fuss.”

Evan watched as the bounty hunters practically dumped Jon onto the shore. The team of six on the ground took him up into the canyon on horseback, while the others still on the boat began turning back. 

“Any ideas on how we’re gonna deal with this?” He asked, running his thumb along the rough leather of the reigns as he thought. 

“What if we…” Smitty trailed off, lost in his mind as he looked at the scene before them. 

Two of the bounty hunters had stayed behind in the canyon, on foot, obviously on the lookout. The other four must have taken Jonathan to wherever they were going to camp out. 

Smitty snapped his fingers. “I’ll go down first, distract them. You two come up behind them, and do you thing. We then go up and get the rest of them.”

Evan looked at Ohm and shrugged. 

“Let’s do it,” Ohm agreed.

As Smitty lead his horse down the canyon and around the river bend to approach the bounty hunters, Evan and Ohm dismounted and crossed through the river to get behind them. 

The water was a little unpleasant; it thoroughly soaked his pants, and was just cold enough to be upsetting. 

Evan clenched his jaw so his teeth wouldn’t chatter from the sudden chill, and watched Smitty get off his horse to talk to the idiots with their backs to the river. 

“Excuse me, dear sirs, I’ve had a terrible happening!” Smitty proclaimed, being as dramatic as possible. “My wife, my poor darling, oh, she’s unwell! We were traveling through here, we thought it’d be a shortcut, you see, and she fainted!” 

Evan shared a look with Ohm, and they started creeping through the water, trusting the sound of the other’s voice to cover the water sloshing around them. 

“Sir, please, step back,” One of the bounty hunters attempted to put space between him and the outlaw, only for Smitty to grab onto his jacket. 

“You must help my darling my wife, she’s ill and I don’t know what to do!” Smitty’s voice was almost a shriek with how high-pitched it was. “Please, kind sir, if she dies, I couldn’t bear it! I would, I would-” Smitty crumpled to the ground, almost dragging the bounty hunter with him. 

Evan took that moment to plunge his knife into the man’s neck, and knew that Ohm had done the same for the other man. He grimaced at all the small spray of blood as he pulled his knife out, letting the body hit the ground with a heavy thump. 

Smitty cracked an eye open, saw the two men were done for, and got up. He brushed off his clothes, and spat on one of the bodies. “Stupid pricks, wouldn’t help a poor man’s wife.” 

“Well I’m sure they learned their lesson,” Evan told him, shoving him forwards up the path through the canyon. “Now let’s move.” 

The next pair of lookouts was further up the road, easily taken out by Evan and Ohm. They kept moving, on and on until they were out of the canyon. 

“Smoke,” Ohm murmured, pointing to a spiral of it emitting from the distance. “Their campsite.” 

Evan nodded, and lead the way. He held his rifle tightly in one hand, throwing knives ready in another. Ohm had his own knife and pistol ready, while Smitty just has a scoped rifle. 

As they neared the campsite tucked away behind a small jutting rock, they heard muffled conversations, a repeated heavy thumping sound, and the sounds of someone crying out.

Jonathan was in trouble. 

Evan pulled up his mask, seeing the others do the same from the corner of his eye, and put away his knife. They didn’t have to be quiet anymore, nor did he want to be. He wanted to kill these goddamn assholes for laying a hand on his friend. 

The very second the campsite was in his sight, Evan began firing. Not the best way to approach the situation, but definitely the most efficient. 

There were more bounty hunters than any of them had bargained for. It was a solid team of them, and they were slightly smarter than the average man; they had attempted to corral the three outlaws away from each other, to distract them. 

But they hadn’t counted on Evan bringing dynamite to the party. 

Explosions rang about the camp, deafening everything around them and thoroughly destroying what was left of the abandoned logging camp the bounty hunters had taken over. 

Evan could only enjoy his work for a second before shrapnel hit him, pelting the side of his body with bits of metal and rocks and whatnot. It fucking hurt, but he didn’t stop. 

He just took out his rifle and began shooting. 

He was aware of Ohm off to his left, and Smitty somewhere in front of him. 

Between the three of them, they cleared out the rest of the hunters no problem. 

Smitty caught up with Evan as Ohm went to go find Jon, breathing hard and smiling. 

“Fuck, that was exciting! I forgot how much fun it is to ride with you!” The younger man clapped Evan’s unharmed shoulder. “You alright?” 

“Just fine,” Evan shrugged off his injuries for now. They were minor, and could be dealt with later. “All that for Jon’s bounty, huh?” 

“Maybe we should turn him in ourselves,” Smitty joked, nudging Evan’s side with his elbow 

The sounds of Jonathan crying out caught the attention of both men.

“One of you come help me!” 

Ohm had neared the man, knife in hand to cut his bindings. Jonathan had been tied up like a dead hog, left to hang from his feet off a tree branch. Evan rushed to help, gathering Jon in his arms while Ohm cut the rope.

They set the man on the ground, getting the gag out of his mouth and slicing away the rest of the rope. 

“Fuck, man,” Jon coughed, once, twice, dry-heaving from the sudden movement of blood in his body; he fucking hated being upside down. “There might be more-” 

“Smitty, be on the lookout,” Ohm commanded, arms fiercely wrapped around his brother. “Evan, search their camp. I’ll help him.” 

“I’m fin-” Jonathan tried to say, only to be cut off by dry-heaving over the grass. The dry-heaving turned into shallow breathing, which worried everyone around him. 

Evan forced himself to turn away, not wanting to watch as Ohm took care of Jon as best as he could until they got back to camp. He worried, for it was a full day’s ride, and there was no telling of Jon could make that right now. 

But they would worry about that later. He had a destroyed camp to raid.

Luke had been eating stew with a few of the others when the three came riding back into camp. He heard Ohm shouting for help, and saw Marcel and Nogla hurrying to the edge of the woods, helping Jon down from Ohm’s horse before the animal had even fully stopped. 

Jon was carried into his tent, the one they had assembled because there was faith that he would be brought back. 

Simone made her way into the tent as well, freeing Ohm for the night of watching over him. 

Said man, clearly exhausted, plopped himself down at the table, in the chair next to Luke. 

“Hey,” Luke greeted softly. He shoved his half-eaten bowl of stew over to the poor outlaw. He wasn’t going to eat it anyways. “Eat somethin’.” 

Ohm obeyed wordlessly, dragging the bowl over to him and slowly lifting spoonfuls of hardly warm stew to his mouth. 

“How is he?” Luke waited until the other man had eaten a few bites to speak. 

“Beaten, but he’ll live.”

“And the bounty hunters?” 

“Dead.” 

“Good.” 

Silence fell over them. It was a little pocket of emotion hanging over them, isolating them from the rest of camp. The others were celebrating Jon’s return, bringing out bottles of liquor and songs. 

Nogla had his guitar out, playing Irish folk songs that only Brian knew the words to. Evan and Tyler were dancing by the fire, in their horrible way of dancing that wasn’t actually dancing because they were both born with two left feet. The others were interspersed, singing, dancing, playing cards, drinking, just having a good time. 

Away from Luke and Ohm, who were still with their brother in mind. 

“You still leaving?” Ohm asked, but he sounded as if he knew the answer already. 

Luke gave a soft sigh. “Yes. Soon.”

Scotty walked into smaller, shittier saloon in Valentine to get a drink. He’d been scoping leads out for the majority of the day and figured he’d earned some terrible alcohol. He would’ve gone to the other saloon, but he’d heard about the fight that Evan and them had been a part of and didn’t want to risk any trouble of any kind. 

So into the run-down shack of a bar he went. He wasn’t the only one either. 

Some old fat man in a nice suit was talking to an even older skinny man who had clearly had a few too many. The real-old man was swaying on his stool while the less-old man was hunched over a notebook, pen and eyebrows raised. 

“Please, sir, tell me what happened in Sylvia’s Saloon back in ‘68,” The less-old man asked, and from the way he sounded, it wasn’t the first time he’d asked either. 

Scotty just made his way over to the bar, sat on a stool a bit away from the two men, and threw a coin onto the counter. 

“Just a lot of bunk, Plato, just bunk,” The real-old man slurred, waving a beer around with vigor. 

“It’s not bunk, Mister Calloway, sir, it’s history!” 

The real-old man just huffed and slumped over the bar. The less-old man huffed and slammed his notebook shut. 

“Your friend is a real charmer,” Scotty commented, eyeing the passed-out man with a smirk. 

“You don’t know the half of it.” He rolled his eyes, clearly done with his companion’s nonsense. “And to think, he’s Jim Boy Calloway,  _ the _ Jim Boy Calloway!” The man snorted with a shake of his head. 

Scotty just raised an eyebrow. “Who?” 

Now, the man looked surprised. “Jim Boy Calloway. Gunslinger, the fastest left-hand draw that ever drew?” 

“Can’t say I’ve heard of him. You waiting for your chance to kill him or something? He seems pretty unaware right now.” 

The man balked at him. “Kill him? No, no, I want to deify him! I’m trying to write his biography.” 

“And how’s that going?” 

“I think I might prefer to kill him.” The man tossed his notebook onto the bar. “Either I’d win and become Baltimore’s finest gunslinger, or he’d kill me and end my misery of trying to get his ashen memories out of his drunken mind.” 

“So it’s a win-win. Freedom or glory.” Scotty nodded wisely, raising his glass to that. 

“That’s beautiful! I’m going to use that - if I may?” 

“Be my guest.” 

“Thank you, Mister…?” 

Scotty just shook his head. “I don’t have a name.” 

The man nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes, well, I do, and it’s Elliot Clark. Pleased to meet you.” He stuck his hand out with too much excitement. “Do you duel?” 

“No,” Scotty told him as he shook the man’s hand. “I don’t believe in all that nonsense. Shooting a man in the back kills him just as much as a shot to the face.” 

“Then I think you may be just what I need,” Elliot Clark told him. “Forgive me if I seem a little desperate, but I am.” He grabbed his satchel off the floor and dug through it. “This book, it needs to be a success. There’s a whole list of gunfighters, legends, ever last one of them.” He pulled out a small pile of photographs, and handed them to Scotty one by one. “Emmett Granger, Flaco Hernandez, Billy Midnight, and Black Belle.” 

“Never heard of them.” Scotty took the photos, examining each one. All the gunslingers looked mean and vicious.

“I need you to go talk to them, ask them about Calloway. Get me  _ something _ for me book, and if they get uppity…” Elliot Clark trailed off and looked around them. They were the only ones in the bar, minus the bartender but he was too busy to pay attention to them. “Shoot them,” He whispered. “I can’t believe I just said that, but-” 

“You want to talk to these folks, and if they get pissy, I shoot them?” Scotty asked, just to be sure that’s what his mission was.

“Sounds a lot worse than in my head, but yes.” 

“And the pay?” 

“Half the proceeds of the book if you help get it written, plus whatever I can scrounge up by the time you get me the information.” 

Scotty thought over it for a moment, then decided that he didn’t have anything better to do at the moment. “Sure, why not.” 

The utter relief that poured from Elliot Clark was palpable. “You’re a lifesaver. And please get pictures!” He dug from his bag a little handheld camera, a whole block of new-fangled technology that Scotty felt weird holding in his hands. “There’s information on the back of those photographs that will help lead you to them. Thank you, and good luck!” 

Scotty nodded, then left the bar. 

He didn’t expect that to happen when he wanted just a drink, but Tyler did say to look for new opportunities for money. People loved reading about those cowboys like Jim Boy Calloway supposedly was, so maybe there was some good money down the road. 

Either way, he was set. 

He figured he would ask Chrissy to join him on this mission. She’d probably get a kick out of it, and it would be a way to spend time with her outside of camp. Just the thought of that made him simultaneously excited and nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, in the game the dude who's writing the book probably has a name, but I didn't care enough to find it so I gave him a name. Well, I gave him two first names.


	7. aw's and ouches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staying around Valentine gets a little more complicated in a few ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter, y'all, hope you enjoy

It was a strangely peaceful morning. The morning chill was bearable, if not even pleasant. The sun was shining, the breeze was whispering amongst the trees, and Evan had awoken to still being all wrapped up in Tyler’s arms, thoroughly warmed by the man’s excessive body heat.

It was nothing short of a perfect morning. 

Though he didn’t want to leave, there was shit to be done. Ever so slowly, Evan extricated himself from Tyler’s arms, careful not to wake his lover, before heading out to start the morning chores. Making coffee for the camp, spreading seed for the chickens - they had recently bought five hens from Valentine, all pristine little ladies - and bringing hay for the horses. 

The only other person currently awake to enjoy this peaceful morning was Brock, who was standing by the clearing and admiring the view. 

Perhaps it was his good mood, perhaps it was his persistent desire to get closer to the man who still remained a distant companion, but Evan found himself bringing a cup of coffee over to the man. 

Brock startled at his sudden presence, but took the coffee with a grateful smile. “Thanks,” He murmured, voice low so as to not disturb the atmosphere. 

“You’re welcome.” Evan clinked their cups together. “I was thinking - l know, a dangerous thing to do - but would you like to go fishing with me? There’s a little lake down the path a ways, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like a change from venison. Not that your wife’s stew isn’t delicious, mind you.” 

Brock chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. I’d like to go, that sounds fun. When were you going to head out?” 

“Now?” 

“Sure.” 

By that point, both Tyler and Lauren had awakened. Evan and Brock told them of their morning planes, saddled up their horses, and were off. 

It was barely a ten minute ride to the specific spot of the lake that Evan had seen before, and then they were readying their poles. Evan was by no means a fantastic fisherman, but he knew enough that cheese could catch a decent sized fish. Brock used the same bait, and they cast their lines into the still water. 

“So, you like living with us?” Evan asked lowly, keeping his eye on the shining surface of the lake. The sparse clouds were reflected onto the water, and it was so damn pretty. “The rough, tough outlaw life isn’t too much for you?” 

Brock let out a small huff. “It isn’t too much harder than living just the two of us in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, if that’s what you mean. We just traded four walls and a roof for about twenty extra people.”

“Twenty people willing to stab someone who so much as looks at you wrong.” 

“Exactly. Could be worse. Lauren and I, we’re happy. Especially with a child on the way.” 

“I would hope you’d be happy at that.” 

“We are. Been wanting one for a while, you know? She wants a son, but personally, I’m hoping for a little girl.” Brock had a wistful look on his face, like he was miles away from the lake and thoroughly lost in his own head.

Evan’s attention was briefly on the fishing as he caught a bite; he yanked his rod, and started reeling in the poor bastard. “Got any names picked out? I personally recommend Clavicus LeFliticus.” 

Brock wrinkled his nose. “That’s not a name. At least not one you’d give to someone you love. If it’s a boy, we’re thinking about Ethan. For a girl, maybe Charlotte, or Lucilla. Though Brian keeps wanting us to name her Brianna.” 

“That’s because Brian’s a narcissistic prick.” There was fondness in Evan’s voice, and the two of them shared a laugh. “Your child’s is gonna be _ insanely _ spoiled with all of us.” He reeled in the fish, but it was too small so he just tossed it back into the water.

“Hey, there are worse ways to live, right?”

“Good weather, ain’t it, gentlemen?” 

Evan whirled around at the sudden intrusion, and didn’t like the sight he was met with. Two men in spiffy suits sat atop horses, eyeing them down with disgust in their eyes. Definitely some kind of lawmen. They dismounted, and approached the outlaw and his companion with far too much bravado. 

Evan dropped his pole and stood in front of Brock, hand hovering over his pistol. The second agent, the one with a blue hat, held a shotgun lax in his grip. The first agent, the one who spoke and wore a red hat, gave them a sinister smile. 

“Evan, isn’t it? Evan Fong?” Mister Red Hat said, eyeing down the outlaw. He barely glanced at Brock, whose only defence was a fishing pole. 

“Who are you?” Evan asked, trying his best to shield Brock with his body. He didn’t like the sound of this. 

“Yes, Evan Fong, Tyler Wine’s most trusted… partner,” Red Hat sneered. “We know all about you, we’ve read your file. Came to America from Canada, orphaned at a young age, seduced by that maniac's silver tongue to run away with him and start a gang of degenerate murderers.” Red Hat paused when he was a few feet from Evan. “Agent Milton,” He gestured to himself, then his partner. “Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency, secunded to the United States Government.”

“How can I help you?” Evan thought of any way he could possibly get out of this, but nothing came to his mind. He just had to leave all his goddamn dynamite back at camp. 

“You’re a wanted man, Mister Fong. There’s five thousand dollars on your head alone.” 

“Five thousand? For little ol’ me?” Evan grinned at Brock behind him, but the other man didn’t feel like grinning so much. He turned back to the Pinkertons. “Can I turn myself in?” He joked. Well, half-joked. 

“We want Tyler Wine,” Agent Milton was having none of his shit. 

“Well that’s nice, but I haven’t seen him in months. We went our separate ways.” 

“Is that so? See, we’ve heard witnesses' tellings of a man matching his description robbing a train belonging to one Leviticus Cornwall up near Granite Pass.” 

Evan chuckled. “Isn’t that a little old fashioned nowadays?”

“Apparently not. This is my offer, Mister Fong. Bring in Tyler Wine, and you have my word you won’t swing.” Agent Milton spoke with all the confidence in the world, and it irritated Evan to no end. 

“That’s real nice of you, but I’m not going to swing anyways, Agent…” 

“Milton.” 

“Right, Agent Moron. See, I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Agent Milton’s scowl could curdle dairy. “You know that isn’t right. Bring us Tyler Wine, or you’ll be seeing a lot more of us.” 

“You’re leaving? What a shame, you don’t want to stay for afternoon tea? Come back with me to camp, you’ll be so happy you’ll never want to leave.” 

Agent Milton grinned, and started backing away from the outlaw. “You’re on a time limit, Mister Fong. Just bring him in, and all your problems can go away.” With that, the two men left. 

Evan looked back to Brock, a grim look overtaking his jovial demeanor. “Let’s wait ten minutes, and then head back. We _ cannot _ lead them back to camp.” 

Evan had hardly brought his mare to a stop before jumping off and making his way straight to the tent he shared with Tyler.

“We have a problem,” Evan said, barging in without a second thought. He let loose the rope holding the canvas open, shrouding them in a meager sense of privacy. 

“What’s wrong?” Tyler stood from his bed, abandoning whatever plans he had been working on. 

“Brock and I were down by the lake, and we ran into these two men, Agent, uh, Milton, Agent Milton, and the other one I can’t remember- Ross! Agent Ross!” 

“So?” 

“_ So _ ,” Evan stepped closer, reaching his hands up to grab fistfuls of Tyler’s shirt. “They were goddamn _ Pinkertons _, and they want you, Ty. Offered me my freedom in exchange for you.” 

For just a brief second, Tyler looked perplexed, his hands going up to cover Evan’s. “Why didn’t you take it?” 

“Very funny,” Evan drawled. Only then did he notice just how tight his grip was on Tyler’s shirt, and released the now-wrinkled fabric. “What are we gonna do?” He asked, softening his voice. 

Tyler ran his thumb along Evan’s knuckles, deep in thought. After a moment, he shook his head, meeting his lover’s intense gaze. “Nothing, we do nothing. They don’t know where we are, right?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Right, so they can’t do shit. I suggest we lay low, keep our heads down, and stay out of their way.” 

Evan nodded, finding sense in those words. Surely they could manage to lay low for as long as it took for the Pinkertons to lose their trail. “They know we’re in the state, though.” 

“They also know the state’s a big place. They got lucky in finding you, that’s all. We just have to confuse them, lose their trail.” 

“How?” 

Tyler worried at his lip, splitting the already fragile skin. Evan wiped away the blood. “I’m not sure. Give me some to think, and if you see Brian and Craig around, send them in.” 

Evan nodded. He gave his lover a quick kiss, then went to leave the tent. He lingered at the exit, glancing behind him. Tyler met his gaze with a reassuring smile. 

“Chin up,” his lover said. “We’ll end up on top.” 

Evan didn’t care about ending up on top. He just wanted to live. “I love you,” He said, putting as much emotion into those three little words that he could muster. 

“And I you.”

Kelly found Anthony over by the horses, brushing them down and tending to their tack as the sun began to set. 

He’d been staying in camp for the past few days, mainly helping Simone tend the wounded - thankfully, a job that slowly becoming less necessary. He hadn’t minded, not having a burning need to always be working on the next job, the next score. 

He was the perfect candidate to come along with her. She also missed his company. So she approached him and plopped a poster on the ground next to him. 

He took a single look at it, then glanced at her with an eyebrow raised. “A bear?” 

Kelly nodded. “A big one. Thousand pounds, so says the man who drew this.” She nudged the poster with her boot. “Wanna go hunt it?” 

“You want to hunt a bear that’s apparently so fearsome that there’s a bounty out for it?” 

“It’s a good two hundred for the pelt, more for the meat and whatnot. Bear tooth necklaces are a favorite among huntsmen.” She sat down next to him, splaying her legs out on the ground. “A good hunting trip, away from here, and some money at the end of it so Tyler can’t get on our ass about not bringing in our share. Come on, you in?” 

Anthony considered for a much shorter time than he probably should have. “Why the hell not?”

Brian was finally up and walking around properly. His cast was taken off, and though his leg was weak, it felt nice to be up and about. He felt just a little bit less useless - though he could never be quite as useless as Nogla. 

He had been called into Tyler’s tent, so he brought in a couple bowls of stew for himself and his leader. It was more venison, and he was getting just a little sick of it. But he’d heard about Evan and Brock’s fishing trip being interrupted. 

Pinkertons so close to camp set him on edge, along with everyone else in camp. 

Brian entered the tent, and scowled upon seeing Craig there as well. He ignored the other for now, instead setting one of the bowls down in front of Tyler and then taking a seat on the floor for himself. Leaning up against Tyler’s bedside table with the warm bowl on his lap, he dug in. 

“Didn’t get me any?” Though it was a jest, Craig’s voice took on a harder edge than was necessary. 

Brian merely shrugged. “Didn’t know you were here,” he said through a mouthful of stew.

Sensing an argument, Tyler cleared his throat. “So, the Pinkertons.” 

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Brian muttered.

“If they come near camp again, we should kill them,” Craig said. 

It took all of Brian’s composure to not laugh in his face. “You fuckin’ idiot, that would the worst possible idea.” 

“I don’t see you coming up with a better one, you ass!” 

“That’s what I brought you two here for,” Tyler interjected, moving to stand in between the two of them. “So stop bickering like two little kids that got their treats taken away, and help me figure out a way to save all of our goddamn lives. There’s a bigger picture than whatever feud you two have.” 

Biting back a grumble, Brian took another bite of stew. It was really good, even if venison was becoming boring. He made a mental reminder to compliment Missus Barrus later. 

Satisfied with the scolding he delivered, Tyler sat back down at the table. “We need a plan. We could always move again.” 

“It’s too soon,” Craig started. “We just settled, and morale is low as it is.” 

“We should just keep hidden,” Brian added.

“Kind of difficult to hide upwards of twenty people all going into town.” 

“Then some of us don’t go into town.” 

“You try keeping someone like Kelly all cooped up. I dare you.” 

“Well we can’t all split up,” Tyler sighed. “They’d pick us off one by one, we need to stay together.” 

“Maybe we could scout the states around us, see if there’s anything worth noting. Spots to hide, towns to hit, that sorta thing.”

“I’ve been hearing chatter about Strawberry, a little town east of here, in West Elizabeth,” Craig offered. “I could scout there.” 

Tyler nodded; he ran his fingers along the grain of his table, still not touching his stew. “Take Lanai with you, and be back within a week.” 

Brian pursed his lips. He didn’t like the idea of Lanai going anywhere with Craig, considering how idiotic he could be at times. But he stayed silent. “If he’s going west, I could head east. Lemoyne has a couple towns, and even a city.” 

“I need you here, Brian.” 

Brian tried not to preen at that. He didn’t hide his smirk from Craig though. 

Tyler cleared his throat. “Now, both of you please get the hell out of my tent.”

Tyler sensed something was wrong the moment he saw Evan riding back into camp and damn near falling off his horse. He rushed out to his lover, swatting away anyone who came close. 

“Jesus, what the hell happened?” He saw the blood still trickling from Evan’s nose, and the cut on his arm still oozing blood. 

Evan tried to take a step forward, only to wince and almost crumple to the ground. If it weren’t for Tyler being primed to catch him, he would’ve been met with a face full of dirt.

As it were, Tyler carried him over to their tent, yelling for Simone. 

“Blevins,” Evan muttered, eyes to the ground and focus on his legs. “Three of ‘em jumped me at Valentine. One of ‘em had a knife.” 

“Where are they now?” Tyler was ready to ride into that shithole of a town and shoot those pricks point blank in the daylight. 

“Dead. Managed to get them away from town, killed ‘em off.” 

Tyler eased Evan onto their cot and dragged a chair over for Simone. He stood off to the side, waiting for something to do. They’ve done this enough times that it was damn near routine. 

“Can you get me some water and a clean rag?” Simone asked, entering the tent with her aid kit in her hands. As Tyler left, she sat in the chair and gave Evan her signature ‘what the fuck did you do this time’ look.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Evan defended himself. “I got jumped.” 

“Have your attackers survived to tell the tale?” Simone went to work taking off his jacket and then shirt, examining his injuries as she went. A decent amount of bruises, definitely a broken nose, and a rather deep cut on his arm. Deep enough for stitches at least.

Evan shook his head with a meager smile. “You know me better than that.” 

Tyler returned with the water, and she went to work. Wiped the blood off of him, poured alcohol over the cut - Evan gripped Tyler’s hand hard enough that his knuckles paled - made him drink at least half the remaining liquor, and stitched him up. After that she set his nose with a sickening crack, deemed him all patched up, scolded him a little more, then made herself scarce.

Tyler took her place, still holding Evan’s hand. He took his canteen of water, holding it up so Evan could take a drink. 

Cheeks flushed from the alcohol - and the pain - Evan slumped against the cot with an exhausted smile. “One good thing came out of this.” 

“And what could that possibly be?” Tyler didn’t think any good thing could come from his lover getting attacked by three cowards. 

“They mentioned a camp, pretty close to here. Six Point Cabin, said Blevins usually stays there.” Evan burrowed further into the cot, intent on taking a nap to sleep away the rest of the day.

“Still doesn’t make it worth almost losing you.” Tyler rubbed his thumb along Evan’s knuckles.

“I know, but it helps.” Evan’s voice, thick with exhaustion, was barely audible. 

Tyler pressed a kiss to his forehead, and drew a blanket up to his waist. “Rest, love.” 

He didn’t have to tell Evan twice. Sleep quickly took him, leaving Tyler to brood alone. He was already thinking of a thousand different ways to hit the Blevins’ camp, to show those pricks what happens when you come after his love. 

  
  


Scotty found Chrissy while she was picking herbs, wandering the woods near the camp and picking damn near everything she could find that was even remotely useful. 

It was herbs like thyme and oregano, though a few medicinal plants and even some poisonous were damn near everywhere. On the way, Scotty found a nice little yellow flower. He had no clue what it was, but it was pretty. 

He picked it as he trekked towards the sounds of Chrissy singing to herself. 

It was just some tune she must’ve picked up from her childhood, but it sounded heavenly to his ears.

He stepped on a branch, yanking her out of her peace. In a single instant her pistol was drawn and pointed at him.

“It’s just me,” Scotty held his hands out in front of him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“Dumbass.” Chrissy holstered her pistol, then saw the flower in his hand. “What’s that?” 

“Dunno,” Scotty said plainly. He held it out to her with a small smile. “But it’s for you. A pretty flower for a pretty… lady.” 

Chrissy huffed, but her smile gave her away. She took the flower, examined it for a second, then tucked it behind her ear. “Thanks.” The yellow went well with the blush on her cheeks. “What brings you out here, you hate the woods.” 

“I wanted to ask you something.” Scotty sat down on the ground, content to watch as Chrissy continued picking plants and putting them in her satchel. 

“Ask away.” 

“Wanna go on a roadtrip with me? Some weird dude in Valentine wants me to travel around, talk to a few famous gunslingers for a book he’s writing. Could be fun, and it’s some time away from the gang.” 

“Just the two of us, you mean?” Chrissy’s eyebrow was raised in her special way of telling you that she knew exactly what was behind your words. 

“Yeah, the two of us.” Scotty brought his legs up to his chest, crossed his arms over his knees, and rested his chin on his arm. “Wanna come with?” 

“Duh.” Chrissy smiled a smile that the sun could never compete with in how it lit up the entire forest around them. 

The next day, three groups left the camp. 

Scotty and Chrissy went to go find the gunslingers. Kelly and Anthony left to go hunt the “legendary” bear up north. 

Nearing dusk, Tyler, Evan, and Brock all went to Six Point Cabin, with the intent to find and kill Tyler Blevins.

Brock lead the way, with Evan and Tyler riding behind him. He led them up past Valentine, around a bend, and through a forest. 

“How do you know where we’re going?” Tyler hissed when Brock signaled to dismount. 

“I looked at a map, trust me. We’re approaching the east side of their camp, it has the best vantage point.”

As much as Tyler wanted to trust Brock, he couldn’t take any chances when it came to Blevins. He had to be careful about this, every move had to be calculated. 

Brock stayed true to his word. They camp up on a small hill overlooking the camp, giving them a perfect view to plan the perfect attack. 

“That’s gotta be the main cabin,” Evan pointed to a structure on the far edge of camp. “If he’s here, that’s where he’ll be.” 

“Hopefully taken with booze if we’re lucky,” Tyler muttered, scanning the area. The rest of the clearing was taken up with small tents and a few campfires, with maybe twenty men lazing about. 

“I can help,” Brock told them, sounding steadfast in his resolve. “Just give me a gun.” 

Evan shared a look with Tyler, the two of them holding an entire conversation in their eyes. Then Evan nodded, and handed over one of his rifles. 

“One wrong move,” Tyler warned, grasping Brock’s shoulder with just enough force to be uncomfortable. “And you’re dead. We clear?” 

“Crystal.”

Tyler noticed a group of three men on patrol coming their way, and dragged his companions to the ground.

“Guys I gotta piss,” One man with a nasally voice said, stopping just in front of the hill. “You just go on ahead.” 

“And be the ones to tell Blevins that we got nothin’?” Another piped up. “If anyone’s gonna shoot the messenger, it’s him. You’re coming with us.” 

“Fine, fine.” 

Tyler looked to Evan. “Take out the pisser.” He looked to Brock. “Help me with the other two. Quietly.” He crept down the hill, looking behind him to confirm that Brock was following him. 

With his knife in his right hand, Tyler mimed how to take care of this for Brock. When he felt that his point got across, he went up behind the man on the left. 

It all happened in a single second - Tyler’s hand covered the man’s mouth, his knife plunged into his neck, and he assisted the man’s body to the ground. Brock did the same, a bit clumsier but altogether cleanly. 

When he was positive the man was dead, Tyler removed his knife and wiped it on the man’s clothes. “Good job,” He whispered to Brock. 

He saw Brock looked shaken, holding his knife that was still drenched in blood. Knowing what was going on in his head, Tyler led him over to a fallen log. Evan caught up with them, now holding his rifle. 

Tyler sat Brock against the log, giving him an out for the time being. Then he turned to Evan, and grinned. “Leave no one standing.” 

Back at camp, Luke was packing his bag. He would only take the essentials, leaving the rest for his brothers to have. 

He would leave his jar of sea shells for Jonathan. It was him, after all, that convinced Luke of their worth when they had visited the coast, once many, many years ago. They were very pretty to look at.

He’d leave his small collection of cigarette cards for Ohm, since the man had always loved to collect things. Luke remembered with great fondness how he would always let Ohm open a fresh pack to see the card first. Ohm didn’t smoke, but perhaps he’d continue collecting the cards anyhow.

He waited until night fell. Both Ohm and Jonathan had fallen asleep in his tent, determined not to leave his presence until he had left them. 

He pressed a kiss to Ohm’s forehead, then to Jon’s. He murmured a quick prayer to anyone who bothered to listen, wishing for them to move on from him soon enough. To not mourn him. 

He loved his brothers, but he couldn’t stay here anymore. They knew that. 

Before the sun’s light could warm the hills, Luke mounted his horse and rode out.

Evan had been making his way around the camp, trying his best to corral the remaining Blevins into the center. He and Tyler were picking them off far too slowly for his liking, but there weren’t too many left. 

His main concern was that if Tyler Blevins was here, he would’ve heard the commotion and bailed. But they would deal with that when they dealt with that. 

He sent a bullet through someone’s head, and ducked behind a tree. 

He hadn’t checked the other side of the _ very _ wide tree. A Blevins was on the other side of it, and cracked the butt of his rifle against Evan’s head with enough force to send him to the ground and damn near scramble his brains. 

Evan landed on his back, head screaming and vision doubling. A man - or two, perhaps three? - stood over him, rifles raised to finish the job. 

Then the man’s brain exploded, and several Brocks appeared in his stead. Hands reached down, and Evan tried to grasp one of them. 

Eventually their hands met, and Brock - just one now, Evan’s vision had coalesced finally - pulled the outlaw to his feet. 

A crash sounded from their right. Tyler had kicked in the door of the cabin, and went in alone. 

Evan rushed over, fighting a wave of nausea so powerful he tripped over his own feet and stumbled into the cabin. 

“Goddamnit!” Tyler shoved a table over and shot several rounds from his pistol in it. 

Once the ringing had left Evan’s ears, and his headache had worsened to a point he didn’t know it could approach, he approached the thoroughly angered outlaw. “So no Blevins?” He asked. 

Tyler shot him a glare filled with enough heat to burn a man alive; however, Evan had been on the receiving end of these looks enough to not take offense anymore.

“Well then,” Evan clapped Tyler’s shoulder, almost missing it by several inches. “At least we decimated one of his camps.” 

“But not him,” Tyler seethed. 

“No, not him. But there’s always more time.” 

“I’m going to go loot the bodies, you search this stupid fucking cabin.” Tyler shoved past Evan then Brock, needing some fresh air. 

Brock waited until he was sure they wouldn’t be heard, then asked, “Is he okay?” 

“Probably not,” Evan said amiably. He tried to head to the fireplace, but his body gave out on him; it was only thanks to Brock catching him that he didn’t face plant the floor. Brock set him on a rickety chair to rest. 

“Thanks,” Evan mumbled, shutting his eyes against the pain in his head. 

“What did you need me to do?” Brock figured he could search the cabin, since Evan was in no condition to do so. 

“Search the chimney, there should be cash.” 

Brock followed his instructions, while Evan continued to mumble something. 

“This would’ve been a good chance to put years of fighting to death, but Blevins wasn’t here. And now he’ll be pissed.”

Brock stuck his hand up the grimy chimney, and felt a soft brick stuck to the side of it. Sure enough, it was a stack of bills, dirty and disgusting, but cash.

A cursory glance around the cabin proved that it had little use to them; it was more or less abandoned. Blevins hadn’t used it in some time. The centerpiece above the mantel caught Evan’s attention though. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing a shaking arm at it.

It was a shotgun, dirtied and hardly something to goggle at, was mounted there. Brock took it down and examined it. 

Functionable. Definitely functionable, just in desperate need of some good care. 

Brock didn’t want it. He didn’t want to touch another weapon for a very long time. He handed it to Evan, who was just lucid enough to see the burden slowly taking its place on Brock’s shoulders. 

If Evan had to guess, it was the man’s first time taking another man’s life. 

He remembered how shaken he had been when he had killed someone for the first time. How desperately he needed a friend to be there for him, but had no one. 

But Brock had people. He had many people. 

Evan stood up, wobbly and uncoordinated, but determined. When Brock came over to him to help stabilize him, Evan took the opportunity to wrap his arms as tightly around Brock as he could manage. 

“It’ll be okay,” he said lamely. He didn’t know what else to say. But maybe he didn’t need to say anything else. 

Brock returned the embrace just as tightly. 

After a moment, Evan pulled away with a small smile. “Come on, let’s head home.” 

“Home,” Brock repeated numbly. He had a home.

Simone examined Evan’s eyes, watching them follow her finger. Then she examined where the rifle had hit his head, where a solid little bump had formed.

“You definitely have a concussion,” She murmured as she sat him down on the edge of the cot. “Just take it easy for a little while, okay?” 

“I can do that,” Evan yawned, feeling the day’s events finally bearing down on him. He was beyond exhausted. 

“You should probably work on getting hurt less.” She handed him a cup of tea, made with some of the leaves Chrissy had picked earlier that day. 

“Probably.” Evan sipped the drink, and scrunched his nose. 

“I know it doesn’t taste good but don’t you dare spit it out!” Simone raised her hand, ready to smack him if he did what she thought he was going to. 

But Evan merely swallowed the foul tea and looked like a defeated child. 

“Good.” Simone packed up her stuff, and left the tent. 

Tyler stepped in soon after, looking just as tired. “You alright?”

“Concussed,” Evan raised his drink to his lover, frowning as some of it sloshed over the side of the metal cup. 

“I figured.” Tyler looked at Evan for a moment longer, then began his nightly routine. “Brock saved your life.” There were a thousand emotions clouding his voice, and Evan couldn’t be bothered to even attempt to dissect them all. 

He just nodded, and slowly began taking off his own boots. “He’s a good man.” 

“He is.” A moment of silence, then, “Sorry I got so mad.” 

Evan could only shrug. “I get it.” 

“But-” 

“Can we just sleep?” Evan asked as loudly as he dared, but his volume still sent a spark of pain throughout his head. 

Tyler crushed down his thoughts. “Of course, yeah.” 

Evan downed the rest of his tea, and then laid down to cuddle with the love of his life. 

Tyler, not quite ready to fall asleep yet, sat up against the wall formed by the wooden post holding up the corner of his tent. Evan laid in his arms, his back to the taller’s chest, in between his legs. 

“Luke left while we were out,” Tyler murmured, unsure of why he needed to keep talking. 

“He’ll be okay,” Evan answered, voice thick with the fast-approaching sleep. 

“You keep getting hurt.” 

“I keep getting better.” 

“But what if you don’t?” 

“What if I do?” 

Tyler withheld a groan, suddenly frustrated with Evan’s lack of concern for his own wellbeing. Though, could be really be judgemental of that? How often has he taken a blow to save Evan, how gladly would he enter a bullet’s path if only for Evan to see another sunrise?

“I can hear you thinking,” Evan told him. “Everything’s gon’ be okay.” 

“I hope so.” He really, _ really _ hoped so. “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea what Brock and Lauren's daughter's name actually is, so if any of y'all do that'd be great. If not, I'm going with what I want to because it's my story and I can.


	8. a series of misadventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrissy and Scotty go find a gunslinger. Kelly and Anthony hunt a bear. Lanai and Brian go scouting. Evan and Jonathan go robbing. 
> 
> Very little goes exactly to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of an update last weekend, life just got me fucked up. But here we are, a new chapter and some good fun. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!

“So, what do you think of everything that’s happened?” Craig had waited a good couple hours to ask his question, wanting to be as far from camp as it took for him to be certain that no one there would overhear him. 

Tyler had practically thrown them out of camp that morning, eager for them to start scouting. It was a full day’s ride to Strawberry, if not more. Lanai usually traveled quickly, though, so he was confident they would reach the small town by sundown. 

Lanai glanced at him, but kept most of her attention on the road. “What happened, happened. The past doesn’t matter, only the future does.” 

“But surely you have your own opinions? Especially on Blackwater. If I remember correctly, you were quite opposed to that mission.” 

“I was.” Lanai’s grip on her reins tightened, then she quickly released them. “Blackwater was a mess we shouldn’t have been involved with.” 

Craig was about to his retort with an argument he’d carefully constructed over the weeks of constantly being doubt by fucking  _ everyone _ , but Lanai interrupted his thoughts. 

“But like I said, what’s done is done. There’s a million reasons Blackwater went wrong, we just need to focus on making it right.” 

Her words left Craig gaping like a fish. 

She noticed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, you definitely played your part in that disaster, and I haven’t forgotten it. But we can only move on.” 

“Right, so moving on. What about the Cornwall business?” Another thing that has damaged Craig’s carefully-built reputation as a competent outlaw. Too many of their gang were too afraid for their own good.

“I’d say Cornwall got what was coming to him,” Lanai said, puffing up her chest a little. “The man’s a tyrant, and I say we should rob him of every last cent he has.” Then she deflated, just a tiny, hardly noticeable amount. “But Brian did get hurt on the train job.” 

“Brian getting hurt was his own damn fault,” Craig spat. He was sick of constantly hearing about  _ poor Brian, our hero Brian, Brian the only criminal worth a damn in the entire camp, Brian who can never do anything wrong- _

“Maybe, but still. It seems like every job we go on, someone gets shot.” 

“That’s the life we chose.” 

Lanai nodded in resignation. “It is.” She glanced at him again, this time with an eyebrow cocked. “What’s with all the questions?” 

“Just making conversation.” 

“Right.” 

“You doubt me?” There was an edge to Craig’s words he couldn’t get rid of. 

Lanai shook her head. “Nope.” There were a million things unsaid in her words.

“You burnt it.” 

“Fuck off, it’s not burnt!” 

“It’s literally black. Burned, charred, blackened, disfigured, um…” 

“You done?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You still gonna fuckin’ eat it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then shut up.” Kelly plopped herself down on the ground, rabbit leg impaled on her knife and bottle of whiskey in her hand. 

Anthony shook his head, but chowed down on his own bit of rabbit meat. It was burnt to hell, but food was food and he didn’t feel like going to try and hunt another one as the sun was going down.

“So where did you hear about this bear again?” He asked, just to make conversation. 

“Butcher in Valentine,” Kelly answered through a mouthful of rabbit. “Said deliveries from there was slowing down ‘cause the beast was scaring hunters all the way to Lemoyne.” 

“And we’re going after it, why?”

She merely shrugged. “‘Cause I ain’t scared of no bear. Are you?” 

“If it’s right in my fuckin’ face about to chew it off, then yes. Being shit out the back end of a grizzly isn’t exactly the way I want to leave the Earth.” 

“Then don’t get eaten.” 

“You could’ve told me the first idiot we were off to find was way back in the mountains!” 

Scotty looked over to Chrissy, who was bundled to hell and back atop of her horse. “You cold? You want my blanket or something?” 

“I’m not cold.” 

He figured she wasn’t. Chrissy loved the snow, loved the cold in general. Another thing they shared. “Then what’s your problem?”

“It’s so far away!” 

And well, he couldn’t argue with that. Where they were going, it was way up north. Further than that dilapidated mining town they had stayed at a while back. They had to pass it to get up to where they were going; Scotty figured they could spend a night there, depending on when they arrived near it. 

It was a good three days’ travel to get there, since they had to go through pretty much all of the state of Ambarino to get there.

“This Flaco Hernández better be worth it,” Chrissy grumbled, shuffling around within her many coats. 

“Come on, simply basking in my glorious presence isn’t enough for you?” Scotty brought his hand to his chest in mock-hurt. “I’m offended.” 

Chrissy leveled a glare at him. It looked more cute then angry, considering how bundled up she was with a scarf covering most of her face. 

“I will shove you off your horse and leave your ‘glorious presence’ in the snow to freeze.” 

“Sure you will, bud.” Scotty looked ahead of them with a grin, and thus he didn’t see Chrissy suddenly strike.

He did see the blinding white of snow in his eyes when he hit the ground. 

“H’ya!” Chrissy spurred her horse into a sprint, which meant it kicked more snow into Scotty’s face when he tried to sit up. 

“You bastard!” He yelled playfully, scrambling back onto his horse, urging the stallion after the laughter floating through the snow-laden trees. 

Evan went searching for Jonathan, but didn’t have to look very long. 

He was sitting in the remains of Luke’s tent. The furniture had been cleared out, but the tent itself was left. Jonathan had screamed when Brian tried to take it down, so it remained. 

He was sitting on the ground, holding a jar of seashells. 

Evan knocked on the post supporting the canvas. Jonathan’s eyes hardly left the jar to look at his boots. 

“Hiya,” Evan greeted softly. “Can I sit?” 

Jonathan nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Evan crossed the tent, and sat next to his friend. “You sleep last night?” 

Jonathan shook his head. 

“I’m sorry. Want me to get you some coffee?” 

Another shake of his head. 

“Want to go robbing? Tyler found us a lead, says if we do it right we can get a fence at some ranch. Should be easy work.” 

Evan knew he’d been told to take it easy with his concussion and all, but he figured if he could walk fine and shoot relatively straight, he could go robbing.

Jonathan went to shake his head, but Evan sighed before he could. “I think it would be good for you to get out of camp. Please, come with me?”

He let out a laboring sigh, but set down the jar of shells in favor of grabbing Evan’s hand. “Sure.” 

Evan’s grin was pure as he led the two of them out of the tent and towards the horses.

“This is it?” Lanai’s sneer was impressive. 

“It isn’t exactly the Eighth Wonder of the World, but it isn’t horrible.” Craig chuckled at her unamused expression.

They had just crested the hill from the south, and come upon a glorious view of all that was the town of Strawberry. In total, it was pitifully small. A hotel, maybe two shops, and a few houses. The only sense of civilization to keep the horrors of the thick forests away. 

“Come on, let’s find the hotel. We can work from there.” 

“We’re just scouting right?” Lanai asked with an eyebrow cocked. “No excessive drinking? No gambling?” 

“I’ll be cleaner than the washroom of a nunnery, I promise.” Craig raised his hands to the sky. “Let’s split up, cover more ground.” 

Kelly spent the morning collecting various berries from the woods. She walked up and down the length of a small stream, while Anthony stood on the opposite bank. 

He had been fishing since dawn, and he had a decent catch to show for it. Four salmon, of decent size. More than enough for breakfast. 

When the two of them had settled back down at their campfire, Anthony plopped the fish down on the ground. 

“Save one, we’ll need it for the bait.” 

“Fuck, we’re baiting the bear?” 

“Yeah, unless you have a better way to hunt it.” 

Anthony huffed. “I’m sitting my ass in a tree while you do that.” 

“The hell you are. You’re going to be on the ground with me, and we’re going to be a safe distance away.” 

“You’re really out of your goddamn mind, you know that?” 

Kelly threw her hands into the air with a grin. “You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to this!”   
Anthony laughed, the kind of crazed laugh that always brought Kelly to tears. “Did I?” He managed to ask.

“I sure hope so!”

Scotty was looking through his binoculars, scouting out the camp just barely visible on the other side of the frozen lake, but a cloud of white blocked his vision and scared the shit out of him. 

“Jesus!” He totally didn’t yelp, scrambling flat on his ass backwards. 

Only then did he notice Chrissy’s laughter and her gloved hands covered in snow. 

“You prick!” Scotty scooped up a handful of fresh powder and tried to throw it at her, only for the snowball to disintegrate midair and land in a pile of sparkly dust at his feet. 

Chrissy laughed harder, doubling over from the force of her joy.

Scotty went to spout some colorful insults, only to be stopped by just how happy Chrissy was. She was laughing so hard she was crying, and Scotty hadn’t seen her laugh that hard in months. 

He just stood there like an idiot, struck dumb by her all over again. He wished for this moment to never end, for them to be able to stay like this, laughing and having fun in the snow. 

But Chrissy eventually sobered up, and they continued on their mission to the first gunslinger. Still flinging balls of powdery snow at each other as they went, though.

When Evan and Jonathan pulled their horses up to the back of the stables at Valentine Ranch, the man that had been smoking there quickly stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking and rushed over to them. 

“You Mr. Wine’s boys?” The man asked, eyes flicking all around them. He was middle-aged, a wiry frame and greasy hair, none of which helped the panicked look in his eyes. 

“Yes,” Evan answered, hopping down from his horse. 

The man sagged with relief. “Hitch your horses over there, then we’ll talk in the barn. Can’t be seen outside talking to the likes of you.” He quickly left, leaving the two outlaws to do as he said. 

“Seems weird,” Jonathan commented as they tied their horses’ reins to the wooden hitching post situated just outside the barn doors. 

“Only a little,” Evan said a shake of his head. “Just a sprinkle.” 

Jonathan huffed, but still managed a small smile. 

The two of them walked into the barn, and were hit with the smell of horses, hay, and nicotine. 

“Boss don’t like me smoking near the animals,” The man told them as he offered them both cigarettes. “But fuck ‘em. My name’s Seamus.” 

“Evan, and this is Jonathan,” The criminal spoke for the both of them, declining the cigarettes. 

“So what do you need us for?” Jonathan asked, leaning against a barrel of water in front of one of the empty stalls. 

“I need you two to discreetly partake in some… carriage retrieval.” The man told them, lowering his voice until a damn breeze would overpower it.

“That’s it?” Evan could’ve laughed. 

Seamus simply glared. “Do you know the reason you kinds of boys are getting turned into the law or killed more and more these days?” 

“Why?” Jonathan asked with an edge to his voice. 

“Because idiots think they can wave a gun around and everyone will shit their pants and hand over their jewels. I don’t trust idiots.” 

“We ain’t idiots.” 

“We’ll see about that. I need to be sure I can trust you two to get shit done right, and then we can talk about further jobs as well as my ability to provide a fencing operation that I’m sure would be to your advantage.” 

“We don’t need to prove shit to you,” Jonathan said, annoyed with anyone doubting their skills. Being an outlaw wasn’t easy to be good at, and they were  _ great _ . 

Seamus flicked his cigarette against a stall, and gave them an even stare. “Then we don’t have much to talk about, do we?” 

“Wait,” Evan said with a sigh. “I’m sure we can work something out. What’s this carraige job?” 

Seamus grinned. “My cousin by marriage just bought a real nice coach, you know, high quality and fit for a prince. Thing is, it’s just been sitting in his barn, waiting for the perfect time to show it around to show how much richer he is than anyone else in this shithole of a state. I think it’d be better used here, and not collecting dust at his homestead.” 

“You want us to rob your cousin?” Jonathan needed to be sure he heard the man correctly. 

“By marriage,” Seamus reminded them curtly. “And yes. There’s also some valuables in the house, but that’s your business, not mine. Don’t kill no one, they’ll trace it back to me. Do this right, and we can have a beautiful business relationship started up right here.” 

Evan glanced at Jonathan, and shrugged. 

“We’ll do it,” Jon told the man, offering his hand. “Where’s this cousin by marriage live?” 

Seamus shook his hand with a wide and almost-creepy grin. “Not too far, friends.” 

Lanai had been scouting for the better part of the morning, and had found jack shit. 

Nothing about good scores out here, nothing about good places for a camp of twenty-some people to hide, absolutely  _ nothing _ . 

So she was irritated and hungry. She went to the hotel for some lunch, figuring Craig could find his own way around if he so desired. 

What she didn’t expect to find was said outlaw at the fucking bar, drinking away with two other men. 

That only upset her more. She had been slogging her way through this stupid town and he had been sitting on his ass the entire time? Absolutely not.

“You know, you’re a real sonofabitch,” Craig slurred, planting his hand on the man’s shoulder that sat to his right. “And you’re an idiot,” He told the man on his left. 

“And you’re a pisspoor thief who can’t steal the shit outta the backend of a cow,” The man on his right said with a hearty laugh that turned into choking on his own saliva. 

Lanai saw the flash in Craig’s eyes, and within a single moment saw how this would go. She resigned herself to taking to a seat in the corner; whatever he got himself into was deserved at this point. 

“Take it back,” Craig warned the man, suddenly sounding much more sober than he had. Still drunk, but less so than his companions. “Or I’ll fill your soaked liver up with lead.” 

The man on his left laughed. “You wouldn’t do shit, you’re a pansy if we’ve ever met one!” 

And that sealed their fates. Craig shoved himself off the bar stool, taking out his pistols and shooting each man in the heart. His aim was unsteady, his stance wavering, but they were still clean kills. 

In broad daylight, in a somewhat crowded hotel in the middle of a town. 

Lanai groaned, slumping over her table and letting her head knock against the wood. Maybe, if she hit her head hard enough, she’d wake up from this stupid fucking dream and find herself back at camp. 

But nope. 

Chaos erupted following the gunshots, and within a moment lawmen were filing into the bar. Craig had enough sense to not shoot them, but didn’t keep from fighting as they tackled him to the floor. 

“You bastards!” Craig fought as much as he could, kicking and biting and looking every bit the drunken feral bastard he was. “Let me go!” 

Two of the lawmen picked him up and began carrying him out the hotel. Lanai hoped he wouldn’t notice her, but alas, luck continued to fuck her over. 

“Get Tyler! Bring him here and shoot the entire town! Get me out of this!” Craig shrieked at her as he was taken away. 

One of the lawmen took notice of this, and sat down across from her once the hotel was silent again. “You knew that man?” He asked, ready to arrest her if need be. 

“Unfortunately. He’s my brother in law,” She lied with a solemn smile.

The lawman huffed. “Well, you might want to find his wife and tell her of this. I’m sorry, ma’am, but something like this warrants a hanging.” 

And fuck if that didn’t put a wrench in their plans. Lanai coughed to cover up a grunt, and tried her best to look sad. “Well, that’s… excuse me, officer. I should go to her.” 

“Do you need someone to escort you?” 

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She left the hotel and quickly found her horse; she’d leave Craig’s horse here for now, she couldn’t ride back to camp nearly as fast if she had to take both. 

As she raced away from Strawberry, the thing that angered her most was her rumbling stomach. 

All that and she couldn’t even get some goddamn lunch.

Kelly had mixed the bait, and set it up in a nice little clearing for the bear. “So, you wanna wait in a tree or on the ground?”

Anthony balked as if that was the stupidest question she’d ever asked. “The tree!” 

“Then I’ll be on the ground.” Kelly winked, then skipped off to hide behind a large rock. 

Anthony looked for a tree he could climb, and then wanted to cry because there were none with easily scalable branches. He dragged himself over to Kelly to hide with her, silently praying that today wasn’t the day they met their ends. 

Kelly watched carefully, rifle raised and ready. 

When nothing happened for a few minutes, she moved from behind the rock. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Anthony asked, scrambling up onto the top of the rock for higher ground. 

“Seeing if something’s wrong with the bait,” Kelly hissed back. She took another step, then froze. 

The bear lumbered down the hill they were on, and fuck was it huge. 

Anthony cursed under his breath, and aimed with his rifle. 

Kelly swallowed; the bear was pretty. Gorgeous fur, large size, angry eyes and extremely sharp looking teeth. 

The bear rushed her, letting out a ground-rumbling roar. 

Kelly wanted to sprint away, but her heart seized and she couldn’t fucking move. 

Then Anthony fired, twice, three times. 

The bear shuddered to a stop just in front of Kelly, then its eyes rolled up into its head and it dropped to the ground. 

Kelly collapsed along with it, staring with wide, unseeing eyes at the beast that lay before her. 

Anthony hopped down from the boulder and rushed over to her, gathering her in his arms and dragging her away from the bear. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, turning her away from it so all she saw was the forest. 

It took a moment for his words to register, but slowly they did. She looked at him, slowly coming back to reality. 

“Fuck,” She breathed, eyes wide and grinning at her brush with death. “So much for not being scared, huh? Damn, I really could’ve died. Thanks, man, for saving my life.” 

Anthony nodded, knowing that this was how she dealt with such things. Laughing it away. “You would’ve done the same. Now let’s skin this fuckin’ thing and get back home.” 

“Who are you, gringo?” 

Scotty raised his hands, nudging Chrissy to do the same. “We just wanna talk to Flaco Hernández.” 

“Why?” The man with the shotgun pointed at them took a step closer. 

“We want to know about his-” Chrissy tried to say, but the man snapped at her. 

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to the gringo.” He turned to Scotty, scowl deepening. You have ten seconds to the fuck out of here.” 

Scotty looked to Chrissy, and he knew they were on the same page. 

The both of them opened fire on the small camp; there were only about ten men here, occupying the gathering of tents tucked away in a clearing behind the frozen lake. 

It was well hidden, difficult to get to, and now strewn with bodies. 

“Cañez?” A voice, thick with an accent, came from the tiny little cabin situated at the back of the camp. 

“Hernández?” Scotty called out, revolver in hand. “Come out, I just want to talk about Jim Boy Calloway!” 

A man emerged from the cabin, looking every bit the terrifying outlaw that was on the back of cigarette cards everywhere. He wore a coat that looked as if it were made from a bear, and his face was hardened from the years.

“You come here, kill my men - a personal attack on the Del Lobos, and you want to talk?” Hernández balked, hooking his thumbs into his belt and glaring down at the two outlaws that stood before him. 

“We just wanna hear a story or something,” Chrissy told him, putting her gun away. “Anything about the time you spent with the gunslinger.” 

“He was no ‘gunslinger’,” Hernández told them with a sneer. “And I’d rather speak to your corpses.” He went to draw his gun, but Scotty was expecting trouble. 

Though Flaco Hernández was quick, Scotty was ready. He shot a bullet into the outlaw’s heart by the time he had a hand on his weapon, and they watched as Hernández’s body hit landed in the snow. 

“What a prick,” Chrissy muttered, trudging over to the body. “Just wanted a story.” 

Scotty holstered his weapon as he followed her. He just looked at the body for a moment, and then sighed. “We need to turn him over, I need a photograph of him.” 

“A photograph of a corpse for this book?” 

“That’s what Mr. Clarke told me to do.”

Together, they rolled the body over. Chrissy brushed the snow off his face as Scotty readied the camera. He took the picture, then they looted the cabin and the body. 

Scotty found some cash and some food, while Chrissy took Hernández’s two revolvers. They were unique, with a special design etched into the grip; swirls and skulls decorated the pistols. They were beautiful.

She handed them to Scotty, who handed one back to her. “As a thank you for coming with me,” He told her when she gave him a confused look. “A pretty gun for a pretty lady.” 

Chrissy blamed the blush on her cheeks from the cold. “Thanks.” She carefully held her new revolver, and whistled for their horses. “One down, three more to go.” 

“Hopefully they’re a bit more agreeable,” Scotty muttered, glancing over the ruins of the camp. He felt bad for staining the snow with so much blood, but nature is forgiving. 

The homestead they were directed was situated in the middle of a clearing a bit north of Emerald Ranch. The trees around them provided ample cover, so no one would see the two outlaws situated on the outline of the trees. 

“So how do you wanna do this?” Evan asked, watching as a man on the porch smoked and read a newspaper. 

“We could split up, one of us distract them while the other robs the house then meet up at the barn, or we could wait until night, do it under the cover of darkness,” Jonathan told him. 

“So the fun way or the efficient way,” Evan noted. It always seemed to fall like that. If he were with just about anyone else, they would usually pick the efficient route. 

“Let’s do it the fun way,” Jonathan suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Agreed. Do you wanna distract them, or me, or we do it together?” 

“Together.” 

The two of them shared a grin, and then made their way to the main path then up to the house. 

Together, they spun a fantastic story. 

They were two brothers, originally from England, and were well-known lords. They had discovered a magical cure for back pain, and were cast out for witchery. 

Seamus’ cousin by marriage and brother were enraptured by their tales. 

Jonathan detailed how he always had a fucked back, and then Evan used his witchery and he hasn’t felt pain since. 

“I call it…” Evan trailed off for dramatic pause. “Chiropractory!” 

The cousin by marriage scrunched his face. “That ain’t a word.” 

“Oh, but it is! I coined it for our purposes, if you’ll let us inside I can show you!” 

And thus, they were invited into the house. 

It was child’s play from there. Evan laid the men down and cracked their backs. Jonathan crept through the house and cleared it off any jewelry or cash he could find, raking in about two hundred dollars. 

In the end, the men even paid them with their silver bracelets, earning them another twenty. 

Then Evan and Jonathan meandered their way to the barn out back, and rode off in the wagon before the two men could even tell what had happened. 

It was the most fun either of them had had in a good while. 

Riding back to Emerald Ranch, Evan realized just how much he had missed Jonathan by his side. How he had missed Jon’s crazed laugh, or the jokes or messing around. 

He felt so light around Jonathan. Much like he felt around Tyler. 

Eerily similar to how he felt about Tyler. 

Evan shook his head; he wouldn’t sully their celebration with his own thoughts and burdens. 

They drove the wagon back to the ranch, where Seamus stored it in the barn. “Congratulations gentlemen,” He said as he clapped them on their backs and shook their hands. “You now have a fence here at Emerald Ranch. Come see me with stolen goods and I’ll see what I can do for you.” 

Jonathan unloaded the jewelry he picked up, and then the two of them headed back to camp to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I plan for there to be Tyler/Evan/Delirious?  
No.  
Will there be?  
Quite possibly. Who knows. I don't.


	9. some good ol'fashioned hatred. and a train.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler sends Brian to deal with the aftermath of Craig's bullshit. Then a few of the guys go robbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
This chapter, and the rest of my story for that matter, will portray Craig in a not-good light. A pretty bad one. That does Not reflect how I feel about the man irl, however, as this is a work of fiction. Just wanted to get that out of the way. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

“Evan!”

Said outlaw turned towards the call of his name and startled to see a six-foot-tall Irishman full on sprinting towards him. “What the hell?” He asked, shielding his body as best as he could and bracing for the impact. 

The impact never came. Nogla stopped just in front of Evan, barely staying on his feet from the momentum. He held a finger up, bent over, and tried to get his breath. 

Evan waited for a solid two minutes - he counted - until Nogla stood to his full height. 

“I found a lead,” He said as if he were presenting a cure for back pain. 

“And?” 

Nogla glared at him. “A  _ lead.  _ Somethin’ to rob.” 

“I got that, but what is it?” 

“A train, full of rich folk and headin’ through a stretch of land late at night. Just askin’ to be robbed.” 

Evan thought about it. He really did. “Trains are a hassle. How are we gonna get it to stop?” 

Nogla brightened up. “We steal an oil wagon! Put it on the tracks, givin’ the train driver time to see it, and they either gotta stop or die. No train driver wants to be cooked alive.” 

“Damn… that’s really good.” Evan grumbled. It was a really good idea, and involved something that explodes, and how didn’t he think of it?

“Don’t look so surprised, Ev.” 

“It’s just… you were the one who wanted to stick some dynamite into a potato to trick that one Irish prick.”  
Nogla groaned. “That was over two years past, let it go!” 

Evan chuckled, figuring that he had ribbed Nogla enough for it. There would be plenty of time to make fun of him for so much other stuff. “Fine, but I hope you know where to get an oil wagon.” 

“There’s a refinery up kinda nearby that Emerald Ranch place, and sometimes they can be seen heading around Valentine. We can store it at this shack, near Dewberry Creek, I found it while explorin’.” 

“You really thought this out.” 

“We need somethin’ to go right,” Nogla said with an empty laugh. “Maybe this can be it.” 

Evan gave him a small smile and a one-armed hug. “I think it will. We’ll need one, maybe two more men with us. Let’s bring Jonathan, he needs to get back into the ringer.” 

“And Tyler? He hasn’t been out robbin’ in a while either.” 

Evan couldn’t think of a better team. “It’s settled, then.” 

“You really think it’s wise to hit the bank so soon after getting here?” Brian asked, chasing a bit of venison around with his fork. He had eaten about half of his breakfast before deciding it was more fun to play with. 

Tyler, having already eaten all of his stew, sat at the table and sipped his coffee. “Wise? Probably not. But we need the money.” 

“Can’t we stay here a little longer?”

“There isn’t opportunity out here. The bank’s the best bet we got, otherwise we’re just hitting homes and bringing in a hundred dollars at a time, if we’re lucky. And we’ll run out of homes eventually.” 

Brian sighed. He knew, logically, there was only so long they could linger around a livestock town. There just wasn’t enough to sustain a gang of twenty-some people for too long. Not to mention that it was nearing the end of the harvest season, and the bank would be as full as it would get. 

“Would it be enough to move west?” Brian asked, though he was pretty certain of the answer.

Tyler sighed, a heavy and soul-wrenching sound. “Doubtful. If there would be enough to actually get us all the way there, there wouldn’t be enough for us to settle.”

“And we agreed we wouldn’t move unless we had enough to buy land out there,” Brian supplied. 

Their attention was drawn to the entrance of the camp, where Lanai had just come from, hopping down from her poor horse that had obviously been pushed to its limits. 

As she stalked over to them, sweating and looking beyond pissed, Tyler wished he had put liquor in his coffee this morning. 

“You’re back early,” Tyler said as she neared him. “Coffee?” 

Without a word, she took his cup, chugged it, and threw it onto the ground. She stepped closer until she was right in his face, and if he wasn’t damn half a foot taller than her, it would be pretty terrifying. As it was, with how pissed she seemed, Tyler knew to exercise caution. 

“You’re right hand man is a goddamn idiot,” She seethed, fighting to keep control of herself. 

“What’d I do?” Brian piped up. 

Lanai whirled on him, and he cowered back. “Craig! Craig is a goddamn idiot! He shot two men point blank in a bar in the middle of the fucking day! He was arrested, and they say he’s going to hang!” 

Tyler’s immediate reaction was to ask if she was alright. Then, he got mad. “Who the fuck did he shoot?” he wanted to know who was worth such a stupid action for. 

“I don’t know!” 

Tyler sat down, clenching and unclenching his fist. This was not what they needed to be dealing with right now.

“I can’t believe he would do something so stupid and I fucking watched it!” 

“And you didn’t stop it?” He asked, his volume rising with his temper. 

“I didn’t have time!” Lanai matched his temperament just fine. “Damn near the second I walk into the saloon after doing all the fucking work and he’s shooting assholes in the chest like it’s the fucking wild west!” 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Tyler banged his fist against the table. His brain went a million miles a minute trying to figure out the best way to get Craig out of this. 

Brian’s snicker caught his attention. 

“And what the fuck is so funny about this?” 

Brian couldn’t even pretend to look upset. “Everythin’,” he answered as if it were obvious. “That dumb prick got what he deserves. Let ‘em hang.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Simone said, having been drawn by the noise. “We’re family, you hear me?”

“Tell me he doesn’t deserve it,” Brian stood from his chair, finding most of the people in camp staring at him.

“Maybe a good punch to the throat, but not a hangin’,” Nogla added. 

“Brian, you’re going to get him,” Tyler spoke above the chatter. “Get him out of jail and make sure he stays out of it. No arguing, you hear me?. And the rest of you, get back to work!” He stormed off to his tent, probably to brood some more without Evan here to calm him down. 

Brian stood still, mouth agape and pride hurting. After a moment, he managed to close his mouth and looked to Lanai. 

“Oh, no, don’t fucking look at me,” She warned, still furious. “I’m not saving that piece of shit, you are.” She walked away to, towards the kitchen area for some food.

That left only Nogla still standing around there. Brian gave him a hopeful look, to which he got an apologetic grimace in return. 

“Sorry, Bri, I’ve got this thing going wit’ Evan,” At least Nogla tried to sound regretful. 

Resigning himself to a horrible few days ahead, Brian sighed the heaviest sigh he could manage, and stalked off towards his horse. 

It had been a coincidence, but who was Evan to squander an opportunity? 

He and Tyler had been shopping in Valentine, on the search for some new rifles; the ones they had at camp had seen better days, and if they couldn’t trust their guns to keep them safe on a job, they might as well just pack it in and stop being outlaws. 

They had just left the gunsmith and were headed to the saloon for a quick drink when Evan stopped Tyler with a hand to his chest. 

“What?”

“Look.” Evan inclined his head towards what was sitting up near the train station. 

Tyler followed his line of sight. “Is that-” 

“An oil wagon.” 

The grin Tyler let free was damn near feral. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Wasn’t planning on doing anything fun today, but here we go.” 

While excited at the prospect of a good robbery, Evan couldn’t help but give his lover a side glare. “Spending time with me isn’t fun?” 

“Illegal fun.” 

“ _ Spending time with me _ isn’t fun?”

Tyler looked equal parts abashed and annoyed. “You know what the fuck I was talking about.” 

“I’m not sure I do.” Evan planned to milk this for all he could, which wasn’t long. 

“The wagon’s on the move, we can finish this later but we need to go.” 

“Fine, fine.” 

The two of them set out on their horses, trailing the oil wagon until it was far enough away from Valentine. 

With a single glance at each other, the two put their bandanas around their faces and rode in front of the oil wagon. 

There was the driver, a guard riding with the driver and another on the back of the wagon hanging on the handles of the barrel itself. When the two outlaws pulled up front of them, both guards raised their guns immediately. 

“I’ll ask you nicely to piss off,” One of them said gruffly. 

“And I’ll ask you nicely to get the fuck down from that wagon there,” Tyler replied, brandishing on of their brand new rifles. 

Evan was glad he had convinced his love to buy ammunition as well. 

“We can’t do that. You either move on or you die.” 

Tyler clicked his tongue. “What a shame.” 

Without a word, he shot the guard and the driver at nearly the same time Evan shot the man on the back. 

“We need to move,” Tyler said through gritted teeth as he hopped down from his horse. He dragged the body off, and sat where the driver was. Evan took the other guard’s place, whistled for their horses to follow them, and Tyler snapped the reins. 

The work-horses went as quickly as they could, directed to the shack Nogla had told them about. 

At some point, Evan stood up in his seat so he was leaning against the wagon for security, and watched the area around them to make sure they were being followed by anyone. 

He stayed like that for a good twenty minutes, far past the point of being uncomfortable standing on a rapidly-moving wagon, but he knew the risk of even one bullet being shot at a barrel of oil. If anyone was going to explode upwards of fifty gallons of oil, it would be  _ him _ .

Then Tyler was pulling off into a small patch of trees, and they were in the clear.

“Craig, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Brian muttered under his breath. It had begun raining when he was maybe an hour out of Strawberry, and he hadn’t really packed anything in his rush to get this job over with. 

So he was soaked, chilled, and pissed. 

The first thing he did when he got to the town was head for the pitiful excuse of a general shop and buy himself a cheap bottle of whiskey and pack of cigarettes. 

Lighting one in the rain was more than a little difficult, but out of sheer spite, Brian managed. He smoked rarely, usually only when he was incredibly stressed, but this was an exception. 

Intermixing sips of whiskey with drags of his cigarette, Brian went over to the sheriff’s office. He circled the building as much as he could; the back of it, and the buildings next to it, were pressed against a cliff face. 

The entire town was stuffed into where the mountain face split, and was slightly suffocating. 

However, Brian might be able to leave sooner than he thought. The sheriff’s office was split into several levels, with the basement being partially exposed. The stone wall had a window cut into it, with thick metal bars covering it while still leaving it open to the world. 

Brian wandered over, holding his treasured goods close to himself. 

“Brian, fuck, is that you?” Craig appeared in the window, lightly beaten and dirty. His grimy hands gripped the window as he pulled himself as close as he could get. “Never thought I would say this, but I’m almost glad to see you.” 

“Wish I could say the same, but your ugly mug haunts my dreams.” Brian leaned against the walls of the sheriff’s office, smoking and drinking and looking as if he weren’t talking to a prisoner.

“You’re gonna break me out, right? Listen, you could get some-” 

“Woah, I never said that.” Brian took a long drag and slowly exhaled the smoke. “Got half a mind to just let you hang if what Lanai told us is true.” 

“And what did she say?” Craig said, almost snarled. 

Brian clenched his jaw. “That you were an idiot and shot two men in the chest in the saloon. She wrong?” 

Craig’s silence gave him all the answer he needed. 

“You are a damn  _ moron _ .”

“Thank you,” Craig snapped as he yanked on the bars. “I don’t need to hear it from you, I’m sure Tyler will tear me a new one when we get back to camp, now get me out of here!” 

Brian’s cigarette had burned out. He got a new one from the pack, and lit it with a match against his boot. “In a minute. I just wanna enjoy this. Bask in it.” 

“You’re fucking sick.” 

“And you’re a dumb son of a bitch.” 

It had taken a good ten minutes to convince him, but Evan finally managed to drag Jonathan to where they had stashed the oil wagon. 

It was slow, but they were eventually bringing Jonathan and Ohm out of the melancholy brought on by Luke’s leaving.

When they arrived at Dewberry Creek, Nogla and Tyler were already there and arguing very loudly to the point of yelling, and a pile of playing cards sat at their feet. 

“You’re a cheating whore, you dumb Irish cunt!”

“Woah there,” Evan intervened, stepping in between the two outlaws who looked a second away from throwing punches. “What the hell is going on?” 

“This prick cheats-” 

“Ty doesn’t know how to play poker-” 

“This is how y’all spent your time?” Jonathan asks, barely concealing a grin. “You always get ready for a train robbery by gettin’ pissed at each other?” 

“It was Tyler’s idea,” Nogla pointed out. 

“Well, that was your first problem,” Evan told their leader. It was common knowledge to not play cards with Nogla, for a million reasons but mainly because he was very good at the majority of all card games in existence.

“Clearly.” Tyler brushed imaginary dirt off his clothes, as if ridding himself of the last hour. “Let’s fucking do this already.” 

“Use the steam donkey,” Craig directed, nodding at the old and rusted machine that sat near the gunsmith’s shop, which was conveniently right next to the sheriff’s office. “These bars’ll come right the fuck off.” 

“Alright, alright, shut your trap.” Brian stubbed out his third cigarette - he couldn’t help himself, he just had to watch Craig writhe in that pitiful jail cell a moment longer - and went to the steam donkey. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were used for, but there was a hook attached to a chain attached to a levey system. 

Perhaps felling limber, or perhaps anything else. 

Brian hooked the… well, the hook, onto the bars. “Step back,” He warned the other man. 

“No, I thought I’d hold onto the fucking chain.” 

“Those gallows are looking awfully unused right now,” He snapped. “Be a shame if some dumbass were to take up residence on ‘em.” 

“Alright, point taken, just get on with this.” 

“Prick,” Brian muttered under his breath as he went over to the steam donkey. He pulled the lever with a grunt - it was definitely rusted into place - and with a scream, it gave way and the machine began reeling in the chain. 

Both outlaws stepped back from the device, and watched. 

The machine snapped the bars off the wall in a mini explosion of bricks and dust. Craig wasted no time in climbing out the wall, gratefully taking the pistol Brian offered him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” The sheriff screamed, racing out the building with a rifle raised at the both of them. 

Craig shot him clean in the head and took cover on the side of the building. “We’re gonna have to shoot our way out,” he shouted over the chaos of sending bullets through two more lawmen. 

Brian just groaned. He didn’t want to shoot up an entire town. 

“Help me!” Craig began to move up, losing cover in favor of dropping these lawmen like flies. 

With no choice, Brian followed him with his repeater, cursing every single body he sent to the ground. 

“Where the fuck are you goin’?” He shouted when he saw Craig running the opposite direction of their horses. 

“Gotta make a housecall,” Craig shot him a truly evil grin, then ran across the small bridge that seperated the town into two sections. 

At this point, they weren’t even killing lawmen. It was the men of the town who wanted to be the hero, and Brian felt sick shooting them. 

He watched as Craig shot another three men before bursting into a random house. 

Cursing the entirety of Craig’s lineage, Brian followed him. 

“Hello, Mary!” Craig’s crazed voice carried outside, as did a gunshot. 

Brian burst into the house, and his veins began to boil at the sight. 

Craig stood in front of a cowering lady, whose dress was speckled with blood from the body on the floor with an exploded skull. 

“What the fuck?” Brian exploded, marching up to Craig and socking him in the jaw.

Craig stumbled away from the woman, holding his face with the hand not holding the still-smoking pistol. He was still grinning, the bastard. 

“They have my guns,” He said, casual as if they weren’t in the middle of decimating an entire town. 

“They’re in the safe!” The woman shrieked, pressing herself into the corner as much as she could. “Please don’t kill me!” 

Craig began to advance on the woman, but Brian stood in his way. 

“What’s the code then, Mary?” Craig snarled. 

“Fifty, fourty-three, a-and-” 

“ _ Today _ , please!” 

“Thirty-nine!” 

Craig disappeared into the house without a word, slinking away like the snake he was. 

Brian wanted to help the woman, but he heard shouting from outside. He gave her an apologetic glance, then went to the porch to take up defense. Craig was going to fucking pay for this. 

Speak of the devil.

Craig reappeared, looking all too smug with his revolvers back at his side. “Let’s go,” He clapped Brian’s back, and hopped off the porch. “Be seein’ you, Mary,” He called out with a cackle, then raced to their horses. 

Brian followed because it was all he could do. He was still bubbling with rage, but a new sense of unease began building in his gut. Nothing about the other outlaw seemed right, and it was unsettling. 

The two of them rode out, facing no further opposition from the remains of Strawberry. 

They rode for an hour before Craig slowed, riding a bit into the forest to ensure they wouldn’t be seen. 

“Well, wasn’t that exciting?” He asked, patting his poor horse idly. 

“Exciting?” Brian gaped. “We shot up damn near the entire town! Dammit, Craig, that was just murder!” 

“Calm down, we made it out alive and that’s what Tyler wanted.” Craig’s tone was deadly flat. “Now, I suggest you go back to camp and cool it. Tell Tyler I’m alive, and relax for a few days.” 

“All that, and you’re not even comin’ back wit’ me?” Not that he wanted the other man to accompany him, but it seemed like wasted effort. 

“Not yet,” Craig answered, bothering to look a touch regretful. “I’ve been a bad boy, and I’m not coming back without a peace offering.” 

Brian scoffed. “Do us all a favor an’ don’t fuckin’ come back at all.” He urged his horse into a sprint, eager to get away from Strawberry for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too, Brian!” Craig’s mocking words followed him through the trees. 

“You know, it’s like me Da used to say-” 

A chorus of groans interrupted Nogla’s words. 

“Not the Da.” 

“Anything but the Da.” 

“Don’t bring up your Da.” 

Nogla pouted, focusing all of his attention on the road despite him not being the one driving the oil wagon. “You guys are cunts.” 

“We’ve heard more about your Da than any one person ever needs,” Tyler told him. “Besides, we’re here.” He stopped the wagon just over the train tracks. 

Jonathan and Evan, having brought all of their own horses with them, hopped down and went to work cutting the workhorses free from the wagon. 

“We’ll wait in the trees until the train stops,” Tyler reiterated the plan once more for good measure. “Evan, take out the engineer, then you and Jonathan work the front of the train. Nogla and I’ll work the back. We’ll meet in the middle, then get the fuck out of here. Bandanna’s up, let’s hide.” 

All but one of the outlaws made their way to the trees. All except for Jonathan. 

He climbed up onto the barrel of oil, rifle in his hands and facing dead on. He could feel the tracks vibrating from the train, and readied himself. 

“Jon, what the fuck are you doing?” Evan hissed, heart spiking at seeing Jonathan there. 

“I’m making sure it stops,” He answered with all the confidence in the world. 

The train’s light appeared ahead, cutting through the fog of the night about a mile ahead of them. 

He aimed his rifle straight at it, and fired a warning shot. He knew the train engineer heard it and saw him. The screech of the brakes could be heard, scratching the air as the wheels tried to stop so suddenly. 

Eventually, the train slowed to a stop, and Jonathan never felt more alive. 

“What the hell is going on,” The engineer stepped down from the train, only to be met with the butt of Evan’s rifle. 

Jonathan jumped down from the wagon, landing a bit harshly on his feet but not letting it slow him down. He and Evan silently entered the train, drawing closer to the chatter of alarmed passengers. 

Jon fired a shot into the ceiling, and was met with screams from the passengers. “This is a robbery, ladies and gentlemen!” He announced, shouting over the chaos. “Now give my friend all your valuables, and everyone gets to live!” 

Evan went from booth to booth, holding out a sack and demanding everything the passengers had. 

For once, it seemed as if Nogla’s lead was worth it. The folk here were definitely rich, but that also means they were a bit difficult to rob. 

“This one here needs a bit of help,” Evan told Jon. 

“I’m not giving you scoundrels a damn penny,” A man told them, crossing his arms.

“Just give it to them, Jeffrey!” The woman beside him pleaded.

“Yeah, come one, Jeffrey.” Jonathan whipped the man with his pistol, not hard enough to knock him out, but enough to send the message. “Hand over your damn valuables.” 

That was all the coercion the man needed. Evan moved on, collecting cash and jewelry like no damn tomorrow. 

There was just one more passenger car to get through, with only two men refusing to hand over their valuables. An introduction to Jonathan’s gun changed their mind, then they met up with Nogla and Tyler on a car that wasn’t enclosed. 

Only then, did Tyler see the lights in the distance. 

“Fuck, lawmen.” He took cover by a stack of crates, with Evan by his side. Jonathan and Nogla covered the other side of the car, and they all readied for a shoot out. 

“Gentlemen, come down and surrender yourselves, you’re under arrest!” 

Tyler peaked over the wall, and grinned. “I don’t think we will,” He told them. “There’s only two of you, and there’s a lot more of us. If you want to see tomorrow, you’ll be on your way.” 

“Uh, Ty?” Jonathan asked, pointing to the other side of the car, where a troop of them were coming up the path. They were surrounded. 

“Me and my big mouth,” Tyler swore. He looked to his gang, to the men willing to die than to give up their way of life. “Well, let’s have some fun.” 

Evan was ahead of them. He had brought dynamite along, and lit it up without a second’s hesitation. He gave one of the sticks to Jon, then threw the other as far as he could. Jon did the same, and a moment later, they exploded and chaos erupted. 

There were so many bullets flying that even Tyler couldn’t see where they were coming from. He fired with almost wild abandon, but he knew he was hitting his targets. 

He heard Nogla and Jon whistling behind him. A few seconds later, he heard the crashing waves of hooves approaching them.

“Tyler, let’s go!” Evan grabbed his arm, dragging him towards their horses. 

They raced away from the train, deeper into the forest. They had no destination in mind, just getting away from the law. 

A small band followed them; the four outlaws took turns shooting behind them, doing their best to keep moving. 

Jonathan ended up leading them all, taking them up a pass that led them around a hill and into a stretch of land that Tyler didn’t recognize. 

It seemed that the lawmen didn’t either; they were lost rather quickly to the thick forest.

They kept moving, though, knowing that patrols would be sent out. Jonathan led them through the woods until they reached the end, and were spat out onto a main road. 

They stayed there for a moment, giving their horses a reprieve. 

“Jon, where are we?” Evan broke the silence, eyeing their surroundings with unease. 

“Not too far from camp,” Jonathan answered. “We went around Valentine, it’s maybe another three hours to camp.” 

“Good thinking,” Tyler complimented him. “Coulda’ mentioned that sooner, but good thinking.” 

Jon smiled. “I like the element of surprise.” 

“Prick.” 

“Let’s go home,” Evan whined. “We can make it before dawn then lie low for a little while.” 

The trip to camp was rather uneventful; fading adrenaline proved to be a good method for a quiet journey. 

They arrived a good couple hours before dawn, and went about their post-robbery routines; Evan and Nogla began caring for the horses while Tyler and Jon took their earnings to Tyler’s tent to catalogue what they got. 

Once all the horses were fed, brushed down, and de-saddled, Nogla went to bed while Evan went to go find the other two. 

When he got to Tyler’s tent, his heart melted at the sight. 

Jonathan and Tyler were both asleep, sitting on the floor and leaning against the cot instead of lying on it. Jon’s head was on Tyler’s shoulder and he was holding onto Tyler’s arms. 

Evan stood in the entrance for a little bit, just looking at the scene before him that resembled a Renaissance painting in his mind, especially with their stolen riches spread out all over the floor. 

With a start, he realized that he felt  _ warm _ looking at his lover all tangled up with his best friend. 

Oh fuck. He was in love with the both of them. 

And why shouldn’t he be? They were easily some of the best people he would ever meet, and he had the luck of being able meet both of them. Not only that, but be in a gang with them; to love them both. 

He could only wish Jonathan returned his feelings. 

But it would never happen. Society frowned upon it, and the mere thought of telling Jonathan sent a spike of fear through Evan’s heart. Jonathan was unpredictable through and through; there was no telling if he would accept Evan and Tyler’s feelings, or bolt at the mere thought. 

So Evan ignored his feelings for now, and went about cleaning up the mess of riches. He put it all on Tyler’s table, then he went to leave, to go sleep in his own tent for once, but stopped. 

He gathered one of Tyler’s blankets, and settled it over the two outlaws as best as he could. 

He still couldn’t bring himself to leave after that. 

Since Tyler was sort of crowded into a corner, Evan decided to settle into Jonathan’s side. 

Curling into the man much like he was burrowed into Tyler’s side, Evan sent a quick prayer that this wouldn’t backfire in the morning, then fell asleep surrounded by warmth.


	10. and now we're movin on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan and Evan go on a job, and then suddenly they need to evacuate from Valentine. Permanently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, due to the virus I have the next three weeks off of school, so I can probably crank out the next few chapters on my usual weekly schedule, but we'll see. I hope y'all are doing alright with everything that's been going on!

It had been more than a little rough for Jonathan these past few weeks. 

Getting cornered during Blackwater, being captured by bounty hunters, being held - and mildly tortured - by said hunters, and finally being rescued only for his older brother to leave them all, well. 

Jonathan had seen better days, that’s for sure. 

It seemed to take all he had to just get out of bed in the mornings. By the afternoon, he would be exhausted no matter how little he had done. 

He’d thought about leaving too. About packing what belongings he had and just taking off. Maybe he’d go north, maybe south. Not west. 

And then every time he’d think about it a little more, think about the best way to pack his stuff so it would all fit into the saddlebags for his horse, he’d grow sad at the thought of leaving his family behind. 

Of leaving Ohm behind. And Tyler, and Evan. 

He couldn’t leave Evan behind. It was Evan’s doing that forced him to break the walls he’d been unconsciously building since Luke’s departure. 

Evan took him to Valentine, took him fishing, took him along on that train job. 

Tyler brought him into the more domestic aspects of the gang; counting the money they made, allocating some to spend on certain supplies. 

They took care of him and Ohm while they grieved. Just as they took care of that new couple, the Barrus’. Just as they took care of people they deemed to be good. 

Jonathan couldn’t leave that behind. 

All he could do was continue what they were all out here to do; steal in the pursuit of building their own utopia. 

And he had lofty goals in mind. The Valentine Bank was looking real nice nowadays. 

But he knew to wait; the end of the harvest season would be the best time to hit the bank.

He dragged Evan to Valentine for something else.

“Go buy a rifle,” He demanded from the other outlaw, shoving him towards the entrance to the gunsmith’s shop. “Somethin’ with a sight on it.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ll explain in a minute, just go.” Jonathan pressed enough cash to buy the gun into Evan’s hands, then pushed him into the shop. 

He waited outside until Evan reappeared, then inspected the weapon he bought. It was just the one to get the job done.

“Great, follow me.” With a small bounce in his step, Jonathan headed off towards their horses. 

“Why the hell couldn’t you buy the rifle yourself?”

Jonathan shrugged, bringing his hand up to rub at his neck. “Had a run-in with the shop owner. He doesn't like me much.” 

Evan huffed. “I’ve had a run in with half the damn town!” 

“Well it’s done so stop whinin’ and come on.” 

“Can you at least give me a hint about what we’re doing?” Not that Evan really needed to know exactly what was happening, he’d follow Jon pretty much no matter what. It would just be nice to know what to expect. 

Jonathan pondered his question as they rode out of Valentine. He directed themselves toward the open fields west of the town. “You ever been a ranch hand?” 

To his surprise, Evan nodded. “For a week or so, a long while back. When I still lived in Canada.” 

“Is it hard?” 

“Not too hard. Why?” 

“We’re herding sheep today.” Jonathan led them up a plateau, so they had a magnificent view of the land all around them.

“Again, I ask why.” Evan got off his horse when they stopped, making sure to grab his new rifle. 

“End of the season means folks are bringing in their animals for auction,” Jonathan explained as he crept to the edge of the cliff. He could see Valentine in the distance, and their target over to the right, a small blip on the landscape. “Way I see it, a herd of sheep will make their way there, but a couple of new farmhands will collect the sale.” 

“And if they recognize us from the town?” 

“Like Tyler told us all, we’re just too itinerant workers branching out since our factory up north was closed. Now look through that scope, see what you can find.” 

Evan did as he was told, quickly locating the sheep; corralling them were only three herders, slowly but surely making their way across the grass towards the livestock town. “Now what? Kill ‘em?”

“No! Just shoot around them, scare ‘em off.” 

Jonathan looked through his binoculars, and barely managed to keep from jumping two feet in the air when Evan fired the rifle. He saw two of the herders take off on their horses, while the third one stayed where they were, pulling out their gun and looking around. 

“Guess he doesn’t scare so easily. Shoot real close to him,” Jonathan muttered. 

Another thunderous shot, and finally, the third herder took off. Sadly, the sheep scattered as well.

“Well, that was easy,” Evan remarked. 

“Hardest part is yet to come,” Jonathan told him. He went back to their horses, mounting up and getting down to where the sheep were. “How’s the best way to do this?” 

Evan just shrugged. “Shout at ‘em?” 

Suddenly regretting everything about this job, Jonathan sighed and urged his horse closer to a couple of the sheep that had moved pretty far. They looked up at him, curious of him but not distrusting. 

Jonathan looked back to Evan, who nodded at him. 

“Fuck,” Jonathan murmured. He took a deep breath, and shouted at the sheep as he urged his horse around towards the back of the group. 

Though it made him feel like the biggest fool, it worked; the sheep startled and started moving towards the center of the field. 

“You get this half, I’ll get the other,” Evan said, hardly suppressing a smile. 

Jonathan nodded with a scowl, and started gathering the rest of his little group. 

All in all, there were about fifteen sheep. In a few moments, they were back in a herd and moving towards Valentine. 

“Maybe we can ranch after all,” Jon remarked as the yards of Valentine grew closer. He could feel the familiar high of a job gone right starting to creep up on him, but he pushed it back. Job wasn’t done yet. 

“Good skills to learn if we ever do end up west.” Evan’s voice was equal parts wistful and bitter, and suddenly Jon wanted to reach over and hug him. 

Despite being just a few feet from him, right on the other edge of the herd, Jon felt like Evan was miles away, lost in his own head. 

Then they were leading the sheep into the auction yard, and had to collect their due. 

Two helping hands led the sheep into a fenced-in corner of the yard, and the auction leader came out with a ledger and a suspicious eye. 

Dismounting carefully, Jonathan approached the older man with what was hopefully a charming smile. “Fine sheep,” He remarked, and almost winced immediately after. Who gave a shit about the sheep? 

Apparently the man did. “I’ve seen better. Seen some with less… ambiguity about their provenance.” 

“What’re you saying?” Evan appeared from Jon’s side, having hitched their horses. 

“I’m saying give me a twenty-five percent kickback, and no one has to hear about this.”

Jon scoffed, glancing at Evan then back at the auction leader. “Excuse me?” 

“You will be excused, for twenty-five percent.” 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jon wanted nothing more than to just shoot this man in his stupid head right here, right now in front of his two stupid helpers. 

“Folks swing for rustling livestock,” The man warned. 

Just as Jon was about to reach for his revolver, Evan stepped in between them. He laid a hand on Jon’s chest, and, as if by magic, began leaching Jon’s frustration from him.

“Fifteen percent,” Evan told the man. 

“Twenty.” 

“Eighteen.” 

The man considered this, then decided it wasn’t worth his time. “Fine.” He reached his hand out, taking Evan’s hand in rough handshake. When he shook Jon’s hand, he smiled. “Calm yourself, friend. Think of it as me buying your sins.” 

Jonathan yanked his hand back. “You’re buyin’ but we’re payin’.” He walked off, taking deep breaths to calm himself. 

“Come back after the auction to collect your pay.” 

“Come on, let’s go get a drink,” Evan wrapped an arm around his shoulders and directed him towards the saloon.

Jonathan just nodded and let himself be led. 

Evan had thought that that sheep job went a lot better than it could’ve. At least the auction leader was somewhat understanding. Of all the things Evan could be hanged for, rustling livestock is not the reason he’d prefer. 

He could tell when Jonathan needed some liquor to loosen up, so that’s what he had in mind. 

What he didn’t foresee was Tyler and Nogla in the saloon, sitting at a table close to the windows and just chatting away. 

Well, Nogla was chatting. Tyler was more focused on his whiskey. 

He lit up when he saw Evan and Jonathan, waving them over with far more enthusiasm than normal.

“Gentlemen!” Tyler’s grin was wide and his cheeks were slightly flushed, and Evan wondered how long they’d been here. “What’re you doin’ here?” 

“We were working Jon’s thing,” Evan told him with a small smile of his own and a nod towards Nogla.

“And?” 

“And we’re just waitin’ for some pay on… some sheep.” Jonathan sounded a little bashful. Great big bad criminals known across the country with thousands of dollars on their heads, and now sheepherders. 

But money was money.

“Well then, Nogla, since you’re here, why don’t you and Jonathan go make sure there ain’t any funny business.” 

Jonathan sent one last glance towards Evan, then nodded. “Come on, Nogla, let’s go beat up some baddies.” 

“Don’t do that,” Tyler said quickly. 

“I’m kiddin’, Ty, calm down.” Jonathan grabbed Nogla’s arm and damn near dragged him out the saloon. 

Evan took Nogla’s seat as Tyler reached for the whiskey. 

“Nothing like talking to Nogla to make you wanna shoot your brains out,” He said as he poured two shots. He pushed one over towards Evan, then took his own. “A toast, to your good health.” 

“You’re in a good mood,” Evan remarked. He knocked back the liquor and winced at the taste. 

“For now,” Tyler conceded. “How much are you gon-” 

_ “Wine! Tyler Wine!”  _

Evan and Tyler shared a single glance. 

“Get out here now!” 

Evan knocked his chair over to get to the window, standing to the side with his back to the wall and peered through. 

In the middle of the street were three men on horseback, two of them slightly behind the man in the middle. The man in the middle was well-dressed, old, and angry. 

“You don’t know me, but you keep robbing me! My name is Leviticus Cornwall, and I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you. Come out here before I have these men killed!” 

Three more men appeared from the side; two were restraining Nogla, while the third had their arm around Jonathan’s throat and a gun to his temple. 

Evan’s blood boiled at the sight of his family being held by these idiots. 

“What do you think?” Tyler asked, body tense and face stoic. 

“Uh, you start, just talking, and when the moment is right, I’ll shoot the ones holding Nogla, you get Jon.” Evan wished more than anything that he had brought his repeater with him; he felt woefully unarmed with just his revolver.

“Why not.” Tyler grabbed the bottle of whiskey, took a drink, and walked out of the saloon with his hands raised. 

“Get out here  _ now! _ ” Leviticus Cornwall must’ve gotten fed up with them. “Deal with this,” He commanded his men, then rode off. 

Now nothing would stop Evan from killing every last bastard that laid a hand on his family. 

“Now, gentlemen, this is a case of mistaken identity,” Tyler told them, projecting his voice into something firm that demanded attention from them all. “What is worse than killing a man for the crimes of another?” 

Nogla made eye contact with Evan, and instantly a plan was formed between the two of them. 

“Who wants to be the pariah?” Tyler asked them. 

Evan nodded, and Nogla went into action. He elbowed the man on his right as Evan shot the one to his left while Tyler threw his bottle of whiskey at the one holding Jonathan. 

Jonathan took the gun from the man and shot him point blank in the face, then dropped to the ground while Evan and Tyler took care of the rest. 

Evan rushed to Jonathan’s side, picking him up from the ground and towards the main street. 

More shots rang out, and Jon collapsed to the ground under Evan’s grip, sending them both into the mud. 

“You two alright?” Tyler shouted, taking cover behind a building with Nogla at his side. 

“My leg!” Jonathan grit his teeth, and pushed himself into a stand. He ran to a hide behind an empty wagon, the only thing providing cover on the entire street. 

Evan looked around, spotting too many men lining the buildings. He looked desperately for their horses, only to see them hitched near the stables, at the other end of the street. There was no way they could make it, unless…

He lifted Jonathan up into the cart, then began pushing. “Cover me!” Evan yelled, not taking his eyes off the road. 

He could hear Tyler and Nogla running up to them, firing at who they could see and ducking between shots. 

Tyler began helping him push the cart, but they were still moving too goddamn slowly. 

Evan gave Jon his revolver to speed up the killing, and focused on nothing more than moving the cart. 

By the time they had moved close enough to the horses, there was only a small pocket of men left alive in the town. The law was all gone, only Cornwall’s men were left. 

“Grab Jon, I’ll cover you!” Tyler commanded, keeping his back to the wagon and rifle aimed towards the increasingly-empty street. 

Evan didn’t waste a single moment; he hoisted Jonathan onto his shoulders, ignoring the puddle of blood left on the floor of the wagon, and sprinted for the horses. 

A gunshot rang out, and a moment later, Evan felt a horrible burning erupt in his arm. 

He stumbled and damn near dropped Jonathan, but a steady hand from Nogla kept him moving. 

“Are you hit?” Tyler asked, voice tight with worry. 

“I’m fine,” Evan grit out; he threw Jonathan on top of his horse, hopped up after him, and immediately took off. 

“Split up! Meet back at camp when you’re sure you aren’t followed!” Tyler shouted after him, firing one last shot before mounting his own horse. 

“Fuck,” Jonathan shifted behind Evan, fighting his pain to get a better look behind them; no one was there. “We’re good, get us back to camp.” 

“In a minute,” Evan tried, constantly glancing back and forth with the expectation of more of Cornwall’s men to burst through the trees in ambush. “We need to be sure.” 

“I’m pretty fuckin’ sure we both got shot!” 

Evan’s grip on the reins tightened. The jostling of the horse couldn’t be helping Jon, but if they led men back to camp, a bloodbath would ensue. 

“Soon,” He promised as he urged his horse ever faster into the woods. 

Simone had been helping wash up clothes when Tyler had come bursting into camp, eyes crazed and face red. 

She was instantly on alert, dropping the trousers she had been wringing out and going over to him. 

“We need to move,” He told her, nodding to the tents around him. “Nogla, Evan and Jon are due back soon, and when they’re all here, we need to leave as soon as possible. Pack up as quick as you can, please.” 

“What happened?” She asked, searching and waving over Kelly.

“Shootout with Cornwall’s men,” Tyler answered grimly. 

“Any casualties?” 

“None, but Ev and Jon were shot. I didn’t see how bad, but they will need help.”

Simone nodded, and walked with Kelly into the middle of the camp. She began passing out orders, directing people on what to pack and how, with the practiced ease of being in several emergencies over the years.

Tyler’s mind had been eased when he saw Evan and Jonathan return, and Simone and Lauren had brought them into Evan’s tent to get their injuries looked at. 

Now, he just had to figure out where the fuck they were going now.

“What about going back west?” Anthony asked, gesturing vaguely to the map on the table before them. “Up in the mountains, stay there for a while then go back.” 

“Too risky,” Tyler replied with a shake of his head. “We need to go east, where we haven’t been before.” 

“I might know of a place,” Brian spoke up. “Dewberry Creek, an old dried-up creek bed a bit east of here, towards the town of Rhodes.” 

“How’d you find it?” Anthony asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Was out exploring, happened upon it. There was a small camp at the time, but it seemed secure.” Brian shrugged. “Could work for the meantime.” 

Tyler nodded. “We don’t really have another option. Take Kelly with you, go check it out and clear out anyone that might be lingering there.” 

“What about Craig?” Anthony brought up, face twisted with concern for his friend. “He’s still out by Strawberry, right? What if he gets back and we’re gone?” 

“Fuck,” Tyler breathed. “Alright, Brian, since you know where this place is, tell Kelly and then she and fuck, I don’t now, someone can go with her to check it out while you bring Craig back here.” 

“I refuse,” Brian stood up from his chair, squaring his shoulders and looking his leader in the eye. “Last time I tried to save him, we shot up an entire town, I’m not going anywhere near him.” 

Anthony buried his face into his hands with a sigh. He was sick of Craig and Brian being at each other’s throats, as much of the camp. 

“Goddamnit, Brian, we don’t have time for this!” Tyler clenched his hands into fists, and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Fine, whatever. Anthony, will you go get Craig?” 

“Sure, boss.” 

“Fucking great. Brian, make him a map of where this fuckin’ creek is, and then take Kelly and make sure it’s safe enough to camp there.” 

“Yes, sir.” Brian left without hesitation to get some paper and a pencil from his tent.

Tyler let out a sigh heavier than a boulder, and rested his arms on the table. “This is a goddamn mess, Anthony.” 

“Just a bit. But we’ll get through it.” Anthony clapped Tyler on the shoulder. “We always do.” 

He spoke with such confidence that Tyler was equal parts jealous and impressed. “I hope so.” 

“I know so.”


	11. errands to run, preparations to make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony retrieves Craig, and ends up tagging along for a little adventure, Brian and Kelly go on a scavenger hunt with a nice reward at the end, and Evan and Tyler both come to a realization.

The journey to where Brian had said Craig’s hideout was proved to be a nice opportunity for Anthony to clear his head. 

Things at camp were just so tense nowadays. It was almost better to be out of camp entirely, than to listen to Brian trying to pick fights or Tyler muttering to himself about their next move. 

Anthony had forgotten how nice it was to just be in the woods, pretending that he was merely fetching a friend and nothing more. 

No threats breathing down their necks, nothing like that. 

Then he has to pass through Strawberry. The damage Craig and Brian had left on the small town was visible even from a distance. Anthony had been through before, and compared to what he had seen then, Strawberry now was a mere husk, a ghost of the already-small town. 

The streets were empty, the buildings were all closed, and the sheriff’s office was barricaded, the hole in its side still unrepaired. A pile of rubble, presumably from the blast, had been gathered against the side of the building, and it seemed that that was the extent of the cleanup.

Other than the bodies being cleared from the streets and dumped God knows where. 

Even as he passed through the streets, Anthony could see the two very large wanted posters decorating what was left of the sheriff’s office; he urged his horse through a little faster and ignored the sinking feeling in his gut. 

An hour or so later, and he was coming upon his friend’s camp. 

It was tucked into a cliff, with an amazing view of the forests and mountains. A small fire was lit, and Craig sat near it on his bedroll. 

“Ah, you’re just in time!” Craig jumped up at the sight of his friend, and began buckling his holsters around his hip. 

“In time for what?” Anthony dismounted and crept closer to the fire to warm his hands. 

“For robbing the banking coach that rolls into Strawberry around this time of night,” Craig stated as if it were obvious. “I told y’all I wasn’t heading back without a peace offering.” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter much now anyways. We got into a scuffle in Valentine, and we have to move. I came to get you, bring you to the new spot.”

“Scuffle?” 

“Shootout with Cornwall’s men.” 

“Brian get shot?” Craig asked with just too much hope. 

“Brian wasn’t there.” 

“Damn. Then it’ll make us all the better if we show up in this time of need with a nice pot of cash. Come on, help me out here.” 

Anthony considered it for a moment, then figured Craig was right. More cash was always useful in a new location. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.” 

“We really heading east again?” Kelly couldn’t help but to ask as she and Brian rode off towards this Dewberry Creek. 

“For now,” was Brian’s clipped reply. 

“I’m sure we’ll be fine wherever we end up.” Kelly sounded more resigned than anything else. “We’ve made it this far, right?” 

“That we have.” 

The rest of the ride was carried out in a somewhat peaceful silence. Brian was grateful for that; Kelly always managed to just be a calm presence when she wasn’t trying to be chaos incarnate. It allowed him to gather his thoughts, and set his sights on Rhodes. 

A new town would have new opportunities, and unlike Valentine, Brian would make sure they cashed in on them. 

Brian was so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed when they arrived at Dewberry Creek. 

“This is it?” Kelly asked, scorn evident in her voice. They were in the middle of a dried creek bed, with nothing but forests on either side of them. 

“Yes, it is. Let’s look around, I think the camp was somewhere down here.” Brian took the lead, heading south. 

“Not very defendable,” Kelly noted. “And we’d be in deep shit when it rains.” 

“I don’t see you coming up with a better option,” Brian snapped. He was too tired for this. 

“I’m just saying- is that a body?” 

Brian followed her line of sight to something a bit down the creekbed, laying down in the middle of everything. 

Upon further inspection, it was indeed a body, that of a man. He wore ragged clothes, and definitely hadn’t happened upon this spot by mere coincidence.

“Shot through the throat,” Kelly muttered to herself, getting down from her horse to get a better look. “Still has his guns and shit.” As she straightened back up, she noted tracks in the dirt. “Come on,” She readied her rifle and started walking. 

Brian followed her closely, not liking the feel of this. 

She led them both to a camp offset the main creekbed; tents had been squeezed into where a divet of water had run off the creek once upon a time; the tents were torn down, almost like they were ransacked. 

“What the hell?” Brian wondered aloud. He entered the main body of the camp, where the charred remains of a fire were nestled in the dirt. 

Kelly started walking, then stopped next to a wagon; she listened intently, then noted that the bottom of the wagon was hidden beneath a tarp. She could see small boots peeking out from where the tarp didn’t quite meet the ground, and could hear labored breathing. 

She took a step back, and held up her hand, palm out, to Brian. “Hello?” She called out. “Anyone there?” 

Brian listened; something - or someone - was definitely hiding under the wagon. Multiple someones, if his piss-poor tracking skills were correct. 

“We’re not going to hurt you, you can come on out,” Kelly coaxed. 

The barrel of a shotgun peeked through a slit in the tarp, and out followed a blonde woman in a blue dress. Her eyes flickered from Kelly to Brian, but she didn’t step fully out from the hiding spot. 

“What’s your name?” Kelly asked, raising her hands to show her peaceful intentions. 

“Sprichst du Deutsch?” The woman asked them both, taking turns in pointing the shotgun at either of them. 

“What the fuck?” Brian couldn’t help but say. 

“Shit,” Kelly simply said. “What happened here?” 

A young girl poked her head out from behind who must be her mother, and looked at Kelly with a terrified confidence. “They took Father,” She said with a heavy accent.

“Where did they take him? Who took him?” 

“ Schlechte Männer. Sie gi ngen diesen Weg!” The mother pointed her shotgun back the way they had come from. 

“Oh, come the fuck on, we aren’t going on some wild fuckin’ goose chase right now!” Brian protested, ignoring the German family entirely. 

But Kelly had that glint in her eyes she got when she was going to do something, damn all what anyone else said. “Then I guess you can go back to camp and tell Brock that you let these children lose their father.”

Brian took a step back at that; He had expected her to fight dirty, but not _ that _ dirty. It hit him right in the heart; one glance at the woman, whose children - a young boy had come from somewhere and was clinging onto his mother’s dress - sealed the deal. 

He took a deep breath, and nodded. 

The grin that Kelly gave him was nothing if not conniving yet proud. “Guess you are better than Craig after all.” 

“Don’t ever compare me to that prick, even if it’s a compliment,” Brian warned her, stalking past her and the German family to get to their horses. “Compared to him, basic human decency is a goddamn miracle.” 

“We’ll find your husband,” Kelly promised the woman before she went to catch up with Brian, winking at the children as she passed. 

Craig shifted for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes; he was getting too old to stay in a crouched position for too long now. 

“Do you remember that one time we went on a robbing spree?” He asked suddenly, startling his companion out of his thoughts. 

“You mean when we went way up north and robbed like five or six cities?” Anthony remembered that well.

Craig nodded enthusiastically. “That was so much fun! We made thousands, enough to keep us all going for damn near a year!”   
“And then you lost most of it gambling.” 

“Details, man. My point is, tonight’s gonna be just like that. Just us two, robbing like back in the day.” 

Anthony grinned despite himself. “Just try and keep your damn pants on this time, please!” 

“Who knows how the half hour will hold up, partner.” Craig did something that can only be described as an aggressive wink, and Anthony barely managed to hold back his laughter. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to try for too long; the carriage they were looking for came into view, a lantern on it giving it an orange glow against the otherwise dark valley. 

Craig and Anthony donned their bandannas, mounted their horses, and rode off with their revolvers raised. 

“You know, I still remember when we found you and Nogla back up north,” Kelly remarked as they followed the tracks. 

Well, as she followed the tracks. Brian couldn’t see a damn thing in the dirt. 

“You two were just a coupla’ Irish pricks, drinkin’ and talkin’ so fast we could barely understand you through the accent and your bullshit. Then, you started to come into your own as outlaws; you had grand plans, and they worked! We made good money after you joined us.” 

“Didn’t realize I was traveling with my mother,” Brian muttered. “What’s your point?” 

Kelly didn’t let his snippy attitude stop her. Nor did she look up from the tracks, knowing that it drove him crazy when someone didn’t look at him when they were talking to him. “You’ve changed, idiot. You’ve become some bitter old man or something, instead of a spry thief, and it’s dumb. The world is full of riches to be stolen, Bri! You can’t get caught up in the past, you gotta focus on the future.” 

“Wow, your words have changed me,” Brian deadpanned. 

“Smartass. It’s just something to think about. Cautionary words from a friend, or dare I say, family.” 

“Well why don’t you think of something for once, or is your brain just the size of pea?” 

“Only Tyler gets to say that!” It was a warning with a facetious undertone, the worst kind from Kelly. 

Then her attention was focused solely on the tracks. They had come to a crossroads, and all sorts of hoof prints and animal prints were dotting the dirt. Kelly leaned over the side of her horse, determined they were heading the right way, then took off at a faster pace. 

“This is a robbery, now you can either get the fuck down or you can get pumped full of lead!” Craig shouted as they raced to catch up with the wagon. 

The two men riding it made the wise choice of favoring their lives, and relinquished the cart right over. Anthony took the reins while Craig ensured they weren’t shot at by the two witnesses. 

“That felt too easy,” Anthony commented as he directed the wagon down a road that ran alongside the river. 

“Who cares? We just got a lockbox full of payroll, and when we turn up to camp with a new wagon to boot, they’ll throw us a damn party!” 

Something shifted in the distance in front of them, in the treeline. Light glinted, someone shouted something, and the snapping of a felled tree reverberated throughout the night air. 

Said tree began falling directly into the road, and about ten men began to creep out from the woods. 

Anthony yanked the reins hard, directing the horses into the river; they were almost halfway across when dynamite blew from under them, flipping the wagon, horses, and men all in one fell swoop. 

Anthony landed roughly in the river, water rushing into his mouth and lungs as the breath was knocked from him. He scrambled up, cutting his hands on the jagged rocks making up the bottom of the shallow river. “Craig, you good?” 

“Yeah I’m fuckin’ good, now help me kill these pricks!” Craig was sheltering himself behind the remnants of the wagon, taking shots where he could. 

All Anthony could get to was a large rock; he pressed himself to it and grabbed his repeater, sending a quick prayer that it wasn’t too wet to shoot. 

It seemed someone was listening to him; he fired, and one of the thieves’ heads exploded. 

“Blevins sends his regards!” One of the men shouted from across the river. 

Anthony groaned, because of course their plan was thwarted by goddamn Blevins. He pushed away that thought for now; these men had to die, then he could chew Craig out about his unreliable source later. 

“Cover me!” Craig shouted above the chaos, only to completely leave his cover and walk into the middle of the river.

Forced to cover the  _ clown _ of an outlaw currently abandoning all self-preservation, Anthony let out a string of choice curses and stood up. 

“You think you can fuck with me?” Craig shouted, shooting at anything that moved. “You fuckers think you can stand in my way?” 

Anthony could only watch the crazed ball of manic energy that was his friend as he single-handedly took down the remaining Blevins that were lingering on the shores of the river.

When everything was quiet for at least two consecutive seconds, Anthony let out a sigh. 

Craig turned to him, smile still psychotic and eyes wild. “Well then,” he chirped as he hadn’t just killed many people all on his own in a span of five minutes. “Since we can’t take the wrecked carriage back, let’s see what’s in this fuckin’ lockbox.” 

Shouldering his rifle, Anthony followed Craig towards what was left of the wagon. He grimaced at the sight of the poor horses; they had deserved a better ending than what they got. 

He bypassed the gore that turned the river red, and went to where the lockbox had fallen into the shallows. Craig shot the lock off and kicked it open; inside was three rather fat stacks of cash, all thoroughly soaked. 

“Worth it, right?” Craig asked, grinning at Anthony as he picked up their take. 

Anthony just shook his head. “Certainly an exciting adventure, but we should head back now.” 

“After you, brother.” Craig held out the cash, to Anthony’s surprise. 

He’d long accepted that Craig had control issues; he needed every aspect of every job to go just his way, and when they didn’t he could go off the deep end. To relinquish their entire take was either a show of trust, or confidence, or something else entirely that Anthony didn’t want to dissect when he was still standing in the middle of a river, soaked to the bone and exhausted. 

He simply took the cash, put it in his satchel, and headed for their horses that had taken shelter in the treeline.

Despite his best effort to ignore her, Kelly’s words had sunk their hooks into Brian’s mind and brought up every memory of all his shortcomings that deemed itself appropriate within the last few years. 

He knew, deep within himself, that she was right; he had changed, seemingly for the better. He’d gotten better at being an outlaw, but he’d also gotten… different. Quicker to anger seemed to be the simplest choice of words for it. 

He didn’t want to be the asshole who pushed the people he cared for away from him. He had a family, and he wanted to keep them all close to him. 

He made a vow to get better, and also to never in a million years let Kelly know that she was right. She had enough pride as it was. 

“We’re here,” She murmured, bringing her horse up to a tree and dismounting. 

They had arrived at a clearing, set apart by some woods to the north and a lake to the south. 

“This is much more defensible than the river bed,” Brian mused, looking around at what he could see through the darkness of night. “This is actually way better.” 

“And also occupied, so shut up,” Kelly hissed at him. 

Brian bit back his retort, and readied his gun. There was indeed a camp here, just a small gathering of tents around the outside of the circular clearing. 

There was a lump towards the middle of the camp, and it seemed to be wiggling. 

Brian neared it, eyes constantly flicking from the lump to the edges of the camp, expecting something to jump out at him from the dark. 

He reached the lump without said event happening, and got close enough to see that it was a man. A man that had been hogtied and left in the center of the camp. Ignoring the warnings that curled in his gut, Brian pulled out his knife and cut the ropes around the man’s ankles and wrists. 

As soon as the man pulled the gag from his mouth, he began spouting some more German and pointing furiously around them. 

“It’s a trap!” Kelly shouted, ducking behind a tree. 

Movement around the edges of his vision had Brian cursing as he shoved the man to the ground, told him to stay there, and sprinted to the nearest cover - a wooden table. 

Thankfully, it was only a small group of men, and they were definitely not seasoned veterans at this; they were all down for the count within minutes. 

“What the hell, man.” Brian grumbled when he saw the german man underneath the table; he hadn’t even noticed the man had moved during the shootout.

“You take him back to his family, I’ll stay here and make sure no one comes to try and take the spot again,” Kelly told him. “You remember the way back?” 

“Yes,” Brian snapped. He had been lost in his thoughts, sure, but he wasn’t stupid enough to not pay attention to where they had been going. 

Kelly just smirked at him. “Alright then, Bri. See you soon.” 

Already disliking being demoted to baby-sitting duty, Brian ushered the german man as best as he could over to his horse. 

They got moving soon enough, with the german man having no sense of personal space and resting his hands on Brian’s sides as they made their way through the countryside. 

“So why’d those men take you?” Brian asked, figuring he should at least attempt to make conversation with the man sharing his saddle. 

“Was?” The German man asked, leaning over the side to get a better look at Brian despite the fact that that could fuck up the horse’s momentum but whatever. 

“Those men,” Brian repeated himself, a bit slower. “Why’d they want you?” 

“Ah, geld.” 

“What?” 

“Money,” The man said. “Meine Familie ist reich.” 

“How the fuck does anyone even make those sounds?” Brian grumbled to himself. He urged his horse a little faster to speed up the journey, and felt the german man settle back behind him. 

Soon, and yet not soon enough, they were back at Dewberry Creek. 

The man didn’t even wait until Brian had stopped his horse, he just jumped right off, stumbled, and then ran over to his family. 

They greeted each other in a collection German ramblings, hugs, and forehead kisses.

Feeling like he was watching something he shouldn’t be, Brian looked away, focusing instead on a scuff on his horse’s saddle. 

His attention was brought back to the present by the man approaching him with something wrapped in cloth in his hands. He held it out to Brian with enough care that it felt as if he were passing a child off or something. 

But it definitely wasn’t a child; it was heavy as shit, and colder than snow. Brian sagged a bit under the sudden weight in his hands, but managed to not drop whatever it was. 

“Danke,” The man said, pressing his hands to Brian’s wrists in a show of gratitude. “Thank you.” 

Unsure of what to do with this situation, Brian nodded. “Go on, get out of here,” He said, quieter than he meant to. When the man didn’t move, he got irritated. They were defenseless, and still just milling around like they had all the time in the world. “Get! Scram, scatter, get away from here!” He shouted, gesturing wildly and even startling his horse. 

The family took the hint, and quickly left on their wagon. 

Only then did Brian look at what was in his hands. He gingerly unwrapped the cloth, and almost dropped it all over again. 

He was holding a fucking gold bar. Solid fucking gold. 

Shit, it was heavy. 

He put it in one of the saddlebags on his horse, switching its contents to the other one to try and even out the weight. His horse snorted, displeased with the new addition, but otherwise remained docile. 

Brian mounted, gave one last look to the retreating form of the german family’s wagon, then rode back to Kelly. 

Evan didn’t really know what to expect for the new camp. He hoped for a nice peaceful location; maybe a river or something, some trees. 

Somewhere Jonathan could heal in peace. 

Simone had stationed Evan in the first aid wagon with Jonathan, driven by Marcel and Nogla. 

Evan spent the entire journey holding Jonathan’s hand while he slept as he was still recovering from blood loss; the gunshot in his leg was too close to an artery for Evan’s liking, and being in a jostling wagon for a good few hours couldn’t be helping. 

But they had all made it out with their lives, and that’s what mattered. 

Tyler chose to ride solo on his horse, making rounds around their entire caravan, keeping a cautious - bordering on paranoid - eye out for Pinkertons and everyone else. 

At one point, he had taken pace beside the wagon Evan was on. He stayed there for close to a half hour, content to just be by his lover’s side. 

Evan reached his hand down, and breathed a sigh of relief when Tyler laced their fingers together. 

“He’ll be okay,” Tyler told him with a forced smile. He didn’t have to clarify who he meant. 

“I- we almost lost him.” Evan pumped Jonathan’s hand, though no reply came. 

“But we didn’t.” Tyler sounded torn between reassuring himself, and reassuring Evan. 

Evan looked to his lover, sudden tears in his eyes and the need to be honest bubbling up his throat. He felt words that were better left unsaid threatening to spill out, threatening to ruin everything he had built in his life. 

But Tyler knew him too well. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, could read him like a book. 

“I know,” Tyler said, glancing to where the prone form of Jon lay. “I love him too.”

Now the tears did fall, because Evan had more than he ever deserved. He had Tyler, and he had Jon. 

“What does this mean for us?” He asked quietly, whispered almost.

Tyler could only shrug. “Let’s wait until we have somewhere to sleep tonight, yeah? Then we can all talk about it.” 

“Right, yeah.” 

“Everything will be alright,” Tyler promised. He gave Evan a smile full of love, gave his hand a firm pump, then released it to continue making sure everything was alright further up the caravan. 

Evan settled back down into the wagon, and glanced at Jon. He felt that familiar feeling of nervous anticipation building in his stomach; it was the same way he had felt just before he and Tyler had spoken of their feelings. 

He felt like a young boy again, struggling to confront the object of his feelings. 

He hoped everything wouldn’t blow up in his face, but somehow, he  _ knew _ that this would work out. 

He hadn’t noticed he was grinning to himself like an idiot until he saw both Marcel and Nogla smiling at each other from the corner of his eye. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Evan grumbled, earning a hearty laugh from both the outlaws. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a translator for the German, so if it's incredibly wrong, I apologize and you can tell me in the comments and I'll fix it. 
> 
> I hope y'all liked the chapter!


	12. on the other side of the law for once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having settled in, Evan, Jonathan, and Tyler decide to go fishing. Of course they don't actually end up going fishing, because people get arrested instead.

When enough of the wagons were unpacked that the camp could be officially claimed as belonging to them, a party was thrown. 

Someone, probably Marcel and Scotty, had littered boxes of booze around the camp; Lauren and Brock cooked up what could pass as a feast with the food they had, and - after much convincing from Nogla - Evan got out his guitar and played to his heart’s content. 

It was a nice atmosphere to compliment the beautiful scenery of their new camp, which at some point they learned was called Clemens Point. 

Craig decided to sit by himself on the stretch of beach surrounding the north side of the camp. He sat in the sand, bare feet buried in it, looking out onto the still water of the lake. He switched from admiring how the moon and stars looked reflected on the surface to drinking from a bottle of whiskey and fighting the horrible envy threatening to make him abandon everything and stab a certain Irishman in the eye with a fork. 

He knew he shouldn’t dwell so badly on this; they both had brought home good money for the camp, which was crucial when starting up in a new location. 

But Brian couldn’t let him have just  _ one _ fucking moment of glory. 

“Damn prick just has to shit all over everything I do,” Craig grumbled to himself. 

Then he heard footsteps approaching, and quickly composed himself as best as he could when he was halfway through his whiskey and didn’t plan on stopping. 

“You all good, man?” Tyler plopped himself down on the sand next to Craig, lacking any sort of grace and concern for his bones, there’s a few rocks on the beach. 

“Are you?” Craig asked, noting how reddened his leader’s cheeks were. Seemed everyone was drinking the night away. 

“I’m really good,” Tyler told him, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m having fun, this is fun.” 

“I’m glad you’re having fun.” Craig fought to make the words genuine; he truly wanted Tyler to have a good time, he wanted the entire camp - except for Brian - to be able to feel safe enough to have a good time. 

“Are you having fun? You’re being all lone wolf, it’s weird. Normally you’d be fighting Scotty to see who could sing the worst.” 

“I sing fantastically for your information,” Craig replied, pointing the whiskey bottle at him. “And I’m good. Just wanted some quiet, that’s all.” 

“So nothing to do with Brian?” 

Craig jerked violently enough that he almost spilled the rest of the whiskey down his shirt. He set the bottle firmly down in the sand, twisted it a little to ensure it would stay. “What makes you say that?” He doesn’t look at Tyler, can’t stand to make eye contact right now. 

“I’m not an idiot, I saw the way you just… melted or something when he showed that gold bar.” 

“I’m happy that he got it, we can always use more money. Maybe you could finally get better weapons for all of us, I know you’ve been wanting to do that for a while. Or maybe we could get some real medical supplies, the kind Simone always says we need.” 

“Craig-” 

“I’m fine, Tyler. I’m happy for him, and I’m happy for all of us.” 

“Alright, you’re happy.” 

“I’m happy.” 

Silence fell over the two of them, thick enough to smother. The cool night air felt oppressive, and suddenly Craig wanted to hop on his horse and never look back. 

Tyler grabbed the bottle of whiskey and downed a couple shot’s worth before handing it over to Craig. 

“Get your own,” Craig told him, little heat in his words. He just took a sip, and set the bottle down in between them.

“I missed you,” Tyler said out of the blue.

Craig looked to him, searching for the lie. But there wasn’t one; just Tyler’s incredibly blue eyes being incredibly honest. 

“Someone needs to balance out Brian’s bullshit.” 

Craig scoffed, and made to stand up. Then Tyler’s hand was on his shoulder, pushing him back down into the sand. 

“I’m kidding, chill out.” 

“So you didn’t miss me.” Craig had surmised as much.

“No, you idiot. You’re my friend, my brother and all that shit. Of course I missed you.” Tyler sounded offended that Craig would even question him. 

“Sure you did.”

Tyler paused, as if wondering just how the hell he could convince Craig he was telling the truth. But when Craig didn’t want to be convinced of something, he wouldn’t be. 

Tyler just let out a sigh, and unsteadily got to his feet. “Just… there’s a reason you’re also my second in command.” With that, he ambled away, back to the party, back to his two lovers - everyone had seen how Evan and Tyler and Jon held each other when they had arrived at the new camp. 

He left Craig alone on the beach, with too many thoughts in his head and not enough whiskey to drown them out. 

A week later saw the gang fully settled into their new camp. Everyone’s things were unpacked, tents were set up, the horses were given a nice patch of grass and several logs were set up along the beach for people to sit on and enjoy the view. 

One of these people was Evan; he was drinking some coffee and watching the sun rise. He could never tire of how damn pretty it was. 

Or how wonderful it felt for Jonathan to come sit down beside him, pressing himself into Evan’s side and stealing his body heat. 

“Good morning to you too,” Evan murmured, careful to keep his voice low so as to not disturb the morning peace. He lifted his arm up, allowing for Jon to burrow further into his side. “How you feeling?” 

“You gonna ask me that every day?” Jonathan said, not for the first time. His voice was still laden with sleep, so Evan offered him his coffee. “I’m fine. Doesn’t even hurt anymore.” 

“You still limp.” 

“What of it?” Jonathan drank most of the coffee in one go, then handed the mug back. 

“Nothing.” Evan turned to place the mug on the ground, and caught sight of Tyler pacing around their tent. He’d been stressed ever since they had moved camps, convinced that one wrong move would bring the Pinkertons down on their heads with enough force that they wouldn’t get away for a second time. 

“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” Evan asked, gazing at Jonathan with all the adoration in the world for how Jonathan sleepily blinked up at him. 

“What?” 

“Fishing. You, me, and Ty, we haven’t done that in, shit, I don’t know how long.” 

“I did hear about a creek or something when I went into town with Simone,” Jon said, smile growing with his excitement. “We should go fishing!”   
Tyler was easy enough to convince; the notion that he needed a break was plain for everyone to see, and he didn’t even try to come up with any excuses as to why he shouldn’t. He had just shrugged, and said “Why not?” 

So off the three of them went, with Jonathan in the lead. The sun was shining, it wasn’t too hot yet, it was chalking up to be a perfect day. Evan knew of the weather in the south, he knew how damn hot it could get when summer hit full force. Hopefully they wouldn’t be here long enough for that to happen. 

So Evan didn’t think twice when they were forced to stop at an intersection. A train was blocking the path, stopped at the station to be inspected or something. Two lawmen were there as well, carting a wagon full of angry-looking men. 

“Just keep calm,” Tyler warned them all as they approached the intersection. 

Evan didn’t pay the lawmen and their cart of arrested idiots any mind until he saw one, and then two, very familiar faces peeking out from the very back of the bars that caged the wagon in.

“Well, hello boys!” Smitty greeted them all with a far too cheerful smile as he reached a hand through the bars to wave at them. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” John added, standing to see over Smitty’s shoulder. 

“Quiet back there,” One of the lawmen commanded.

Tyler and Jonathan shared amused glances while Evan just gave the two lovers his most unamused look he could muster. 

“I’ll handle this,” Tyler told them all, before urging his horse up to the lawmen. “Hello, gentlemen, what lovely country you have here.” 

“We like it well enough,” The one on the right, the one with a sheriff’s badge, replied stiffly.

“Hoagie MacIntosh,” Tyler greeted, holding his hand out. 

“Sheriff Leigh Gray, and this my Deputy Archibald McGregor.” The sheriff shook it, giving him a pointed look. “You Scottish, sir?” 

“Partly,” Tyler answered knowing full well he had no fucking clue of his heritage. 

“The best part.” The sheriff shared a laugh with the man sitting beside him.

Evan ignored their chatting in favor of pulling up to the other side of the wagon, where John was. “What the hell did you two do?” 

“We didn’t do anything,” John told him, jerking his head towards the lawmen. 

“They were accused of running a gold-mining scheme,” The sheriff said loudly. 

Evan shook his head while Jonathan fought back a laugh. 

Tyler huffed a laugh. “Now, I know these two idiots, they’re just magicians, not schemers or dishonest types, maybe we could talk about-” 

No one had noticed the actual criminals that had unlocked the wagon, and were now escaping towards the train.

“Shit!” Gray scrambled down from his perch, almost falling on his ass as he did. “We can’t let them get away, I can’t have any more scandal!” 

“Aidan and Arthur will get them back,” Tyler told him with a calm smile. “Take the Deputy with you!” 

Evan and Jonathan looked at each other, then nodded. 

“With me, McGregor,” Evan said, hardly waiting for the deputy to actually get on his horse with him before bounding after the now-moving train. 

“We want them alive, sir!” McGregor shouted in his ear. “Hurry, they’re getting away!” 

Evan grumbled some choice words that were lost to the sound of his horse’s hooves as she fought to keep up with the train. 

“Can’t you go any faster?” The deputy asked, straining against Evan as he tried to keep sight on the men they were after. 

“There’s only so fast my damn horse can go!” Evan had half a mind to knock the deputy off and leave him in the dust, but he had a feeling Tyler wouldn’t like that. 

They had managed to get closer to the train, and could see one of the men standing on the top, goading them. 

“Can I shoot him?” Jonathan asked, already aiming his pistol at the man. 

“No!” McGregor damn near shrieked. “We need ‘em alive!” 

The man on the train didn’t notice a metal bar overhanging the tracks, and the sickening crunch from when the back of his skull met metal was loud enough to be heard over everything. 

“Well that’s one down,” Archibald McGregor said. “There’s a flat car up ahead, can you get close to it?” 

“Train’s slowing to enter another station,” Jonathan added, already urging his horse as fast as he could go to get next to it. “Come on!” 

All Evan could do was lament the loss of a peaceful morning and steer his horse up to the other side of the flat car. 

When he was close enough, he jumped from his horse and landed very roughly on his side, rolling a couple times and hitting a stack of crates. Jonathan’s landing was a bit smoother - the man had obsessed over perfecting his horse-jumping skills - and then it was the two of them up against three other criminals. 

Two of which were on the car they were on, and the other was disappearing further into the train. 

“Go get the other one, I’ve got these two punks,” Jonathan said, taking out his knife and giving it a flip. 

“Don’t kill them!” McGregor shouted from somewhere over the side of the train. “I’ll try and get the train to stop!” 

Evan sprinted past the two men poorly attempting to block his exit, leaving his lover to deal with them. He set his eyes on the last one, who had ducked into the last car on the train and barricaded himself in. 

Evan slammed his shoulder into the door, and fuck that hurt a lot more than he thought it would. 

“Come on, let me in!” He shouted, banging on the door. “I just wanna talk!”

“You won’t take me alive!” The man responded, a thick southern accent twisting his words into something hilarious. 

“I won’t take you at all, the deputy will.” All Evan had on him was his revolver. He might as well use it. 

He shot out the lock on the door and it slid open to reveal the freezer car of the train. Carcasses, what looked like pigs, were strung from two racks on either side of the car, and several crates took up the rest of the space. The man was barricaded in a little fort, and looked ridiculous. 

Evan felt the train start so slow significantly, and figured the deputy had gotten the engineer to stop it. He hoped Jonathan was alright, though he knew the man could be brutal with a knife. 

“Make this easy for me, please?” Evan tried his best to look inviting, but he’s pretty sure he just looked tired. 

“Fuck you!” 

“Never said you had to be returned unharmed,” Evan shrugged. He aimed carefully, and shot the man through his shoulder. 

Then whipped the man with the butt of his revolver when he jerked back, and watched the unconscious lump crumple to the ground. 

He shoved the crates aside, threw the unconscious criminal over his shoulder, and walked out like nothing had happened. 

“Oh, you got him!” McGregor dared to sound surprised from his spot on the ground next to Evan’s horse. Jonathan was already mounted up and ready to go, with two hog-tied bodies on the back of his horse and some blood speckled on his arms. 

“You alright?” Evan ignored the deputy for now as he made his way to his horse. 

“Fine, they were dumbasses. Didn’t know how to block a knife.” 

“Of course.” He plopped the body on the back of his mare, and watched McGregor inspect the man’s face. 

“This is the main man himself, alright, Mr. Anders Anderson. He was the head of this little group, the brains of the operation. And that’s really saying something!” He raised his voice to the unconscious man, while Evan and Jon shared a mutual look of concern. 

“You two were mighty impressive, and I did a great job myself of stopping the train so all of us did a good thing here today.” Then the deputy clapped his hands, got up on Evan’s horse and looked at him expectantly. “Well? Let’s head back to the sheriff’s office already, before they wake up!” 

“Yes sir,” Jonathan said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster.

McGregor seemed to take it for genuine enthusiasm, and Evan wondered how the man ever became a deputy at this rate. 

The ride to the main town - Rhodes, the deputy told them - was taking way too fucking long but they couldn’t go any faster for the weight on their horses. 

It gave the deputy all the time in the world to give them a full run-down on Rhodes: how it had changed from before the Civil War but was still one of the best places to live, how the Gray family (whom McGregor’s family had worked for for years) was a good family that farmed tobacco and stood the test of time on their estate called Caliga Hall, and how they were enemies of the horrible, vile Braithewait family that distilled moonshine like the degenerates they were. 

Evan was all too happy to arrive at Rhodes. The town itself was small, composed of two main streets that intersected each other. It was pretty spread out, but it was definitely larger than Valentine; there were shops, a church, and a mighty large saloon run by the Gray family. 

They had traded muddy streets for bone-dry clay that floated through the air and stuck to their clothes, but Rhodes definitely seemed like it had more going on than Valentine ever would.

They reached the sheriff’s office, where Tyler and Sheriff Gray were chatting away like old friends, and Smitty and John were still locked in the barred carriage. 

“Sheriff! We got him, ol’ Anders Anderson himself!” The deputy chirped, hopping down from Evan’s horse and patting himself on his chest. “All thanks to me-” 

“I knew Arthur and Aidan would get them back for you,” Tyler’s voice quickly overshadowed the pitiful deputy. “Got a knack for serving the law, they do.” 

Evan fought to not laugh at how immediately the deputy wilted. The sheriff seemed hardly impressed, but just grateful enough for him to ignore it. “Put them in the cells, please.” 

“So, about our two friends,” Tyler prompted. 

“Yes, your idiot friends can go free.” The sheriff unlocked the carriage with a huff. “But you boys better stay out of trouble. This town has enough going on without more drama from a bunch of yankees.” 

“I promise you, this was all a big misunderstanding,” Smitty told the sheriff as he got out of the wagon. “But still, we want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts.” He gestured vaguely to John. 

“I’ll pretend to appreciate it.” The sheriff turned to Tyler, and outstretched his hand. “Mr. MacIntosh, I thank you kindly for helping us with those criminals. The mostly good citizens of Rhodes, we welcome you.” 

Tyler shook the man’s hand with enough vigor that it was almost obvious how fake it was. “We’re just happy to be here. We’ll be on our way now, and I’ll make sure these two behave themselves.” 

He ignored Smitty and John’s indignant looks in favor of collecting Evan and Jonathan back from the deputy. 

“Well, come see us soon, gentlemen.” The sheriff nodded at him, then whirled on the boy that had been sitting on the porch this entire time, looking like a petulant child. “Now, Beau Gray these better be rumors I’m hearing about you and this Braithewaite girl.” He ushered the boy inside in the office, slamming the door rather loudly behind them. 

“Idiotic magicians, really?” Smitty said the second the Gray men were inside the building. “Come on, we’re better than that.” 

“Apparently not much, considering you got arrested,” Jonathan reminded him. 

Smitty swat at his shoulder. 

“Where have you two been anyways?” Tyler asked, switching the conversation to avoid any bickering. 

“Around,” John answered vaguely. 

He and Smitty began walking down the street, leaving the three outlaws to follow. 

“And where are you staying?” Jonathan asked as he took in their surroundings. 

“We’re renting,” Smitty told him. “A caravan, at the edge of town, behind the church.” 

John huffed. “It’s horrible, but no one comes looking.”

Smitty turned to walk backwards so he could face the outlaws as they continued down the red dirt road. “This entire town is trapped in this fuckin’ feud between the two families.” 

“They had a falling out over some bullshit, rebel gold, marrying cousins, not marrying cousins, that sort of thing,” John added. 

“Rebel gold, you say?” Tyler perked up at that. “These families rich?” 

“One of them certainly has a huge damn house, a plantation style house,” Evan mused. “Probably lots of money somehow involved in all this.” 

“We should start poking around.” 

“Oh, have we missed you boys!” Smitty threw his hands into the air, reaching out for their hands. 

Evan gave his willingly, Jonathan with a bit more reluctance. They must have looked ridiculous, a group of five men, one of them walking backwards and holding the hands of two others. 

But this was his family, and Evan wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“You know, there’s been talk of bounties,” John mentioned. 

Tyler scoffed. “There’s been bounties on our heads for years, it’ll take them far too long to find us down here. And it seems like we can have some sport down here while we wait.” 

“They were good bounties.” John shrugged.

“Heard talk of some sort of ‘super agents’,” Smitty added. “Some fellows we met at a camp near the state line said there was talk of you for hundreds of miles around.”

“The hell is a super agent?” Jonathan mused. 

“I’d love to meet one,” Evan said. 

“It’s just talk,” Tyler told them all. 

John nodded his head. “Still, couldn’t not tell you.” 

They had made it to the end of the street, where a hill rose and up on it sat a church, easily the tallest building around. 

“Well, here we are,” Smitty said, reluctantly letting go of Evan and Jonathan’s hands. 

“You two stay out of trouble,” Tyler told them. 

“And let us know if you find a fence,” Jonathan suddenly said. “We have some shit we need to offload.” 

“We’ll keep our ears to the ground,” John promised.

“See you boys around,” Smitty said with a smile. 

Then he and John were off to whichever caravan was theirs. 

Tyler turned back to the town, standing there and looking over the expanse of it. Evan came up to his left, while Jonathan took the spot to his right. They admired the town for what it was, and for the potential it held. 

“We should figure out how to rob both families,” Jonathan mused, thinking out loud at this point. “Maybe see if we can pinpoint on the other, get out with all their gold. If there’s enough, we could move west.” 

“Maybe we can pass Brian off as Scottish,” Evan said. “Irish and Scottish sound the damn same, and clearly they’re a fan.” 

“Let’s discuss this when we get back to camp,” Tyler interrupted their half-assed planning. “I still wanna go on this damn fishing trip, if that’s alright with the two of you.” 

“Duh,” Evan held back a laugh at the way Tyler rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.” 


	13. hot for voting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of their long-term plan to swindle the Grays and Braithewaits out of every pound of gold to their name. Brian and Jonathan hope it gets more exciting than this.

The next few days were full of planning sessions. 

And what comprised planning sessions was discussing, then arguing, then yelling, then drinking, then more yelling, then eventual apologizing. 

This time was no different; Brian was currently arguing with Marcel about the best way to trick the Gray family.

Thing was, Marcel didn’t want to attempt to trick them; he just wanted to capture the sheriff, torture him until he gave up the location of their rebel gold, and then torch the entire estate to the ground. 

And while that sounded like a damn good time, it wasn’t what they were after here. Tyler had told them that they needed to keep a low profile, and torching the land of a very wealthy family wasn’t exactly feasible under that mindset. 

But Marcel wouldn’t let up, and it was pissing Brian off. 

To the point where he left the planning tent -  _ his _ tent, he left his own goddamn tent - to go pace on the beach. 

He wore a nice little path into the sand and considered if it was worth it to just walk into the lake and never come back out. 

Then Brock was by his side, mug of coffee in hand and an easy smile soothing away his frustrations. 

“Things going well?” Brock asked as if their shouting match wasn’t audible for miles around. 

Brian just snorted and took the coffee. “I’m about two seconds away from either offing myself or stabbing him in the eye with a fork.” He took a sip, and spluttered at the taste. “Jesus, how much whiskey did you put in this?” 

Brock’s bashful smile was heart-melting. “Got carried away with the bottle.” He shrugged, smile growing cheeky. “Besides, you’re Irish. You can handle anything.” 

Brian rolled his eyes so hard they could’ve fallen out of his skull. But he appreciated the gesture all the same. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t  _ tank _ me,” Brock mocked him for his accent, then nodded his head to something behind Brian. “Thank Lauren.” 

Brian turned, and almost laughed at the sight. 

Lauren was marching Marcel down the slight hill to the beach, holding his ear and giving him a very stern look. 

Her child wasn’t even born yet, and she had already perfected the disappointed-mother look that Brian suddenly prayed he would never be on the receiving end of. 

When the two of them had approached, Lauren pushed Marcel forward and cleared her throat. “Someone has something to say to you, Brian.” 

Marcel jerked, like he was going to run away but thought better of it. He let out a sigh, and forced himself to meet Brian’s gaze. “I’m sorry for being such a prick. You’re right, and-” 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat yourself?” Brian raised a hand to his ear. “I didn’t quite catch that.” 

Only for Brock to thump him on the back of his head. “Don’t antagonize him while he’s apologizing.” 

Damn, they really would be great parents. 

“Anyways, you’re right, we should do things your way. For now.” Marcel looked to Lauren, who gave him an appreciative smile. 

With relief clear in his shoulders, Marcel left the beach and went back into the planning tent. 

“Thank you,” Brian said to Lauren, finding most of his frustrations melting away the longer he was in the Barrus’ company. 

They really were great people. Next time he was out robbing, he’d try and find something nice for them. 

It was over that night’s dinner that Tyler finally divulged their grand plan to the rest of the camp. 

“We’re splitting up for this one,” He announced loud enough to cover the chatter from everyone. “Two teams, one led by Brian, and one led by Craig, each to tackle one of the families. Brian’s on the Gray’s, and Craig’s got the Braithewaite’s. Now remember, we’re here as workers; whatever they want you to do, you do it within reason. We’re trying to gain their confidence so we can steal all of their gold and fuck off to the west.”

Tyler’s gaze landed on Jonathan and Evan, where they sat together on the ground near the campfire. “If we do this right, this can be our last huge job, so let’s do it right.”

The camp let out a chorus of “hoo-rah’s” loud enough to disturb a flock of birds from the trees. 

Brian stopped his horse abruptly in the middle of the road, almost toppling over with the force of it. 

Jonathan hadn’t noticed his companion had stopped for a good ten seconds. When he finally did, he slowed his horse to a much easier stop, then turned around in his saddle. “What the hell is your problem?” He asked, little heat in his words. 

“I’m not fuckin’ Scottish.” Brian crossed his arms. 

Jon blinked at him. “Well you are now.” 

“Fuck off, I’m goin’ back to camp.” 

“We have a job to do, Brian. Drop your Irish pride and pick up your Scottish shame. We gotta swindle us some dumbass rich people.” 

Brian considered his options for a solid minute, weighing them, thinking them through; was it worth it to head back to camp empty-handed? 

And face Tyler’s wrath? That shit was easy. However, facing Simone’s wrath when he brought nothing to the pot? That was  _ terrifying _ .

“Fine,” He relented, snapping the reins.

Together, the two of them rode to Caliga Hall to begin their long-term swindle. 

The guards at the main gate were easy enough to bypass; Brian chatted them up about the area, and Jonathan rode around them and onto the property. 

There was someone sweeping the porch of the main house, so Jonathan went right up to him. 

“Excuse me, sir, but is there someone I can talk to about the history of the Gray family? I’m a student new to the region, you see, and-” 

“I’m the wrong person to talk to about that,” The man said, albeit ruefully. “Go talk to Master Beau, he’s probably around the wood store out back. That boy’s got all the time in the world.” 

“Thank you.” Jonathan tipped his hat to the man, and went where he was directed, walking alongside his horse for now. He eyed the many smaller buildings behind the main house; he wondered if they had any valuables in them, or if it was all stored in the most obvious choice. 

Beau Gray was indeed by what was apparently a wood store, writing in some sort of journal in the shade. He was dressed in fancy rich-people clothes but sitting in the dirt like it didn’t matter.

“Didn’t I see you at the sheriff office?” Jon asked, leaning against the side of the building. 

Beau jumped up, snapping his journal shut with the air of someone who thought he’d been caught; when he saw who it was, he sagged with relief. “No doubt gettin’ scolded by Sheriff Gray, I’m sure.” He stuck a hand out, uncaring that he was conversing with a stranger. “I’m Beau Gray, son of Tavish Gray.” His words were stiff, as if they were rehearsed. 

“I’m Joseph Dennis.” After a surprisingly firm handshake, Jon offered a smile. “There a reason you were bein’ scolded by the sheriff?” 

Beau fit as much frustration into a single shake of his head that shouldn’t have been humanly possibly. “Let me tell you, friend-” 

“We friends?” 

“Here’s hopin’.” Beau began to smile, then dropped it just as soon. “Actually, I couldn’t care less if you were here to kill all of us and those Braithewait’s. Only blind loyalty is keeping us in a fight with them, and it’s only gonna end when our families are extinct. Well, blind loyalty and  _ stupidity _ .”

Jonathan wondered if his southern accent made him sound as stupid as it did this poor boy. 

“Oh, but I have a secret, Mister.” Beau looked away, smiling like a lovestruck fool. “Oh, I love her!” 

“Who?” Jon couldn’t keep track of this boy’s train of thought. 

“Penelope! Penelope Braithewait! She’s a wondrous woman, truly from the future.” Beau skirted around Jonathan, checking all around them as if he was checking for eavesdroppers. When there was no one, he fell against the wall, clutching his journal to his chest. “She’s like tomorrow… if tomorrow turns out fine.” 

Jonathan sighed. This was definitely not getting him any closer to any sort of gold or riches, instead a headache. “Well, I’m sorry for your predicament, but-” 

“Could you deliver her this letter?” Beau popped up from the ground like a gopher, producing a pristine letter from his journal. “I’ll pay you,” He added quickly. “And this bracelet for her,” He dug around in his pocket, taking out a little purple box. “Please and thank you, kind sir.” 

Jonathan just nodded and pocketed the gifts. Money for an easy job was still money.

“She’s known to sit on the gazebo around this time of day,” Beau told him. “But beware of their guards. They’re worse than ours with strangers.”

That bit about the Braithewait guards was horseshit if Jonathan had ever seen it. 

He patrolled the perimeter of the property, and saw maybe ten guards for all of it. He spotted the gazebo that Penelope was apparently sure to be in, and decided to skirt around the lake to get to it. 

Leaving his horse in a small gathering of trees, Jonathan went on foot the rest of the way. He stayed low to the ground, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t need to. 

The embankment from where grass met sand was raised by a good couple feet, from where the lake had eroded the earth away; it created a nice little barrier that allowed Jon to hurry up and get this over with. 

He couldn’t say he particularly liked being demoted to messenger boy, but as long as the probability of him being shot at - his leg was still more than a little sore nowadays, in fact it still hurt like a bitch if he was on it for too long (like he was now) - was minimal, and he’d be paid either way, he was fine with it. 

Getting to the gazebo was easy enough, since the only guard around was leaning against a shed and dozing in the sunlight. 

Jonathan walked right up to the gazebo, nodding in greeting to the young lady who must be Penelope Braithewait. 

“Hello, ma’am,” He dug in his pockets, and produced Beau’s gifts. “I have a letter and a bracelet here for you.” He placed the items on the table, and took a seat on the far end of the bench. 

“A letter  _ and  _ a bracelet, well we don’t even know each other,” Penelope remarked, her voice a cheerful opposite to the bland-looking land of the Braithewait estate. 

Jon chuckled. “They’re not from me. They’re from-” 

“Beau?” Penelope lit up like a lantern, eagerly opening the letter and scanning it with hopeful eyes. She must’ve found a line she liked, for she held the letter close to her chest and looked towards Jonathan with a heartfelt smile. “Oh, isn’t he just the sweetest? He’s a nice comfort these days, with everyone’s hearts being filled with hatred. Even if he may be-” 

“Weird as hell?” 

“A bit odd,” She amended. “He sure is dreamy, though. You ever been in love, mister?” 

Jonathan thought back to his two lovers, waiting for him to return back to camp. He couldn’t fight back a smile even if he tried when those two idiots crossed his mind. “Yes, ma’am. Very much so.” 

“A wonderful feeling, isn’t it?” Penelope took out an envelope of her own, complete with a press of lipstain on the back of it, just above the wax seal. “Would you deliver this to him?” 

“I’m not an errand boy,” Jonathan grumbled, though he pocketed the letter all the same. 

“No, sir, you’re not. An interesting Yankee, though. Come by if you ever want to talk,” Penelope offered. “I bet you have a lot of interesting stories about places that are better than here. You ever been to Ohio, mister?” 

“No, and I hope to never go,” Jonathan told her. He stood and gave Penelope Braithewait an exaggerated bow. She laughed, and he took his leave.

Brian had been busy chatting up the head of security at Caliga Hall - an old man named Robert Gray, nephew to Tavish Gray the patriarch around here - when he saw Jonathan return, riding his horse through the damn tobacco fields without a care in the world. 

He quickly found an excuse to leave, and vowed from then on he would attempt to avoid conversation with that man from here until the day he dropped; nothing was particularly wrong with Robert Gray, at least nothing that stood out from the crowd around here. He was just boring as fuck.

Brian made his way to where Jonathan had gone, slowly listening to the conversation that was growing louder as he went into the stables. 

“She, she can’t do that! They’ll kill her!” A young boy in nice clothes paced around the stables with a brush in hand while Jonathan leaned against the wall. 

At his questioning look, Jon just shook his head. “She doesn’t seem like someone you can stop.” 

“Oh, sir, you have to help me! The people in this state don’t even like the  _ men _ voting, much less a woman! Progress is a dirty word in these parts, unlike  _ incest _ .” 

Brian leaned against the doorway, looking to his companion for clarification. 

“I don’t wanna marry my cousin Mathilda,” The boy lamented, bringing his hands up to grip at his hair. “I wanna marry Penelope!”

Jon just sighed, and vaguely gestured to the pacing Gray in front of them. “The love of his life is going to a protest so women can vote.” 

“And why shouldn’t she?” Brian asked. 

The Gray boy huffed in indignation. “Because she’ll be  _ killed _ ! I want to marry a flesh and blood woman, not a martyr!”

Brian scoffed. “Well that sounds awfully selfish of you.” 

The stare that he got from that was priceless. The boy looked so affronted, just entirely offended. 

“And who the hell are you?” The Gray boy asked. 

“Harrison Fergeson,” Brian introduced himself with enough confidence to make his ridiculous name sound normal, and offered his hand. 

“Beau Gray,” The boy said, ignoring the offered handshake. He turned to Jonathan, dropping his frustration with Brian for a desperate look that wasn’t befitting him. “Will you help me keep her safe, Mr. Summers?” 

Jonathan tilted his head to the side. “Should I?” 

“There’ll be some money for you,” Beau Gray told him, voice taking an edge of impatience. “We Grays, we always got money.” 

That got their attention. Jon looked to Brian as a grin took over his scowl. “Well, Mr. Fergeson, I do believe we have a suffragette to protect.” 

Brian rolled his eyes, a notion that went unnoticed by Beau. The young boy just hurriedly grabbed his horse, hardly waiting for Brian and Jon to mount up before racing off in the direction Rhodes. 

They were maybe a half mile outside the town when they found the protesters; about a dozen or so women were standing on the side of the road, listening to who must be their leader give a speech, using a rock as a podium of sorts. 

“There they are!” Beau jumped off his horse and ran to Penelope, while Brian and Jon hung back. 

They couldn’t ignore the awful amount of suspicious looks they were getting from the suffragettes, and Brian knew in an instant that if he ever ended up on their bad side, he would not live to see the light of another day. 

Brian and Jon merely watched as Beau and Penelope bickered; at one point, Jon had lit a cigarette and passed it over to Brian. 

Then Penelope was marching over to them, pure determination etched into her face. “You are going to drive the wagon,” She commanded, pointing at Jonathan. “And you,” She turned to Brian. “Are going to ride behind us. That way, we can shout all the louder!” Satisfied with her orders, Penelope marched away to the leader to tell of the new arrangements.

“Aren’t you going to put a stop to this?” Beau asked the two of them, getting more desperate as the suffragettes began to pile into the wagon. 

“They’d eat us alive,” Brian remarked. No, he was fine with keeping them safe while they did whatever protesters do. 

“You there,” The leader called out to Jonathan. “Come here.” 

Jon handed the reins to his horse over to Brian, and approached the older woman with a bit of hesitation. 

“Well, come forward, boy, I don’t bite. I’m Olive Calhoon, and you are?” 

“Aidan Summers.” Jonathan followed Ms. Calhoon to the front of the wagon. He tried to offer his hand to help her up, but she batted it away and climbed up herself. 

“Well, Mr. Summers, normally I like to drive, but perhaps having a couple of men with us sends the right message.” She patted the seat next to her with an expectant look. “Shall we go?” 

“I ain’t ever been in a protest march before, ma’am,” Jon admitted as he took the spot next to her. 

Miss Calhoon patted his shoulder with a smile. “Just treat us like the sheep, and the folk attacking us like the wolves, and I’m sure you and your friend will feel right at home. Now, go at an easy pace, Mister Summers. They need to hear our voices.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Jon snapped the reins, setting the horses into the slowest pace he thought was acceptable. 

It must have been, for Miss Calhoon nodded her head in approval, then turned towards her suffragettes. “Alright, ladies. We know our song is a good one, and our cause is a pure one. Let them hear us!” 

As the suffragettes burst into a song they wrote for their cause, Jon looked behind him; there were a two ladies on either side of the wagon, marching alongside with signs held high; Beau raced off on his horse to get ahead of them, while Brian stayed in his dutiful place behind the wagon. 

Suddenly, Jonathan thought this was incredibly boring. He was used to action, to the thrill of thievery, to a shootout every now and then. Though this  _ was _ a good cause, it was also so damn slow. 

As they rolled onto the main street of Rhodes, more and more men poured out from shops and saloons alike to give their nastiest looks to the suffragettes. Jon could understand why Beau was so worried but he and Brian would ensure nothing would happen. 

As Miss Calhoon instructed, Jonathan parked the wagon next to the bank. He waited until all the ladies disembarked first, then followed and kept his eye out for potential troublemakers. 

Brian had gotten off his horse and met Jon with a scowl. He jerked his head over to the steps of the bank, where Beau Gray was arguing with a couple other men. Miss Calhoon had taken her position at the entrance of the bank, and was delivering a speech to the crowd. 

Penelope found the two of them, and gestured with her protest sign. “Go help Beau, and keep his cousins from ruining the speech!” 

With a groan, Jon went over to Beau, who was pleading with the two men to just leave the protest alone. 

“You’re gonna learn yourself some manners, cousin!” One of the men started rolling up his sleeves. 

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” Beau retorted. 

One of the ladies near them shushed him. “I’m trying to listen to the speech!” 

Just as Beau’s cousin was about to say something - probably rudely and loudly - Jonathan stepped in between them all. 

“Beau, weren’t we leaving?” He asked, only to be shushed by the same lady. 

His cousin gave him a confused glare. “Who’s this then?” 

“Just a friend,” Jonathan told him. He grabbed Beau’s arm, and dragged him away from the speech. “We’re going, no need to cause a scene.” 

“What about Penelope?” Beau tried to struggle as he was pulled away, but his weak stick arms were no match for Jonathan’s iron-like grip. 

“Fergeson’s staying behind, it’ll be alright.” Jonathan shoved Beau Gray to his horse, then got up on his own. 

Brian went to the general store for a bottle of whiskey, then sat down on a bench near the bank for the rest of the speech. 

Nothing violent happened, and Brian’s honestly not sure what the hell was accomplished, but he’s definitely all for women voting now. Not that he wasn’t before, he just didn’t care. 

He wasn’t sure he cared very much now, considering he’s never voted a day in his life and probably never would. Being an outlaw makes voting difficult. 

Once everyone cleared out, Brian decided to just go back to camp. He found Jonathan there, who told him that Beau had given him seventy-five dollars for the entire day’s troubles. 

Not bad, but not enough. It was never enough. 

But it was a start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk, we never talk anymore.   
I'm not gonna lie, my motivation for this story has kinda deflated a bit. Not sure why, it just has. Don't worry, I'll still complete the story for those of you who've actually been reading it, but updates might not be every week. The story is still my baby, I still want it to be good, but this quarantine business has just decimated my motivation all around. 
> 
> I hope y'all are staying safe and healthy.


	14. requisitioning supplies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian, Kelly, and Marcel go into town. They leave town with far too much moonshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Around noon on wednesday I realized that I didn't have to wait until the weekend to update like i had been doing. So bam, thursday update, motherfuckers. Hope y'all enjoy.

When Brian had agreed to go to Rhodes with Kelly and Marcel, he imagined it being for supplies; food, liquor, ammunition, you know, important things. 

Then pretty much the second they had stepped foot on the red clay road, Kelly and Marcel had disappeared. Gone without a damn trace while Brian had been hitching their horses. 

Whatever; he’d get some supplies of his own, then head to the saloon for a drink, maybe see if he could scout some work for them.

A good couple hours had passed until Brian realized just how long they’d been in town; he’d gotten himself involved in the game of blackjack that was going on and time had flown by.

Then some random stranger was coming up to him, telling him that a man and a woman at the sheriff’s office wanted him to stop by when he could. 

Figuring the worst, Brian left without a hassle. He wasn’t even doing that well anyways, so it didn’t matter much. All he hoped was that his companions didn’t manage to get themselves arrested in a matter of hours.

No, the scene at the sheriff’s office wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be; if anything, it was downright hilarious.

The sheriff was drunk off his ass, sipping from an unmarked jug and tipping wildy in his chair. Marcel and Kelly were off to the side, drinking from their own separate jugs but not nearly as inebriated. The deputy, Archibald, was nursing his own drink and looking pissed at the sight of him.

“Brian, you made it!” Marcel ushered him over to sit on the desk by the sheriff. “We were just tellin’ the sheriff the awful business up north.” 

“You been through hell,” Sheriff Gray agreed, pointing at Brian with an unsteady finger. “Some real tough business, losin’ your work like that.” 

“Oh really?” Brian glanced at Kelly, who nodded intently at him. 

“Oh, you don’t gotta pretend with me, sir, life can be tough. And no man owes another one anything!” Gray waved him off, then offered him the jug. “But we got honest enough work for honest men like yourself.” 

“Right.” Brian took the jug before the sheriff could drop it, took a drink, and saw his life pass before his eyes. It took everything he had to not spit out the absolute burning mess of liquor that was fighting to exist in his body.

“Shit,” He coughed, careful to avoid the lantern next to him just in case the moonshine caught fire. “That’s some strong stuff,” he said, passing the jug to Kelly to keep it away from the sheriff. “Doesn’t seem to be doing you any harm, though.” 

The sheriff stood up, leaning heavily upon his chair to keep from face-planting the floor. “Exactly! Now, Archibald has something to give you while I… excuse myself.” He wobbled to the front door, and Brian was pretty sure that he fell down the stairs as the door was closing behind him. 

Summoned back into reality, Archibald McGregor rose with the chair with the air of a child that had been put in the bold corner. Much more coordinated, McGregor crossed the room to the sheriff’s desk, rummaged around in the top drawer, and pulled out three deputy’s badges. He placed them on the desk with a huff, and looked at Brian with a glazed-over sort of discontentment. 

“Congratulations are in order,” He said stiffly before returning to his seat. 

Kelly shot up from her spot on the bench across the room, grinning at the product of her hard work. “Deputized!” She said, picking up a badge and holding it to the sunlight. She tossed the other two badges to Brian and Marcel, then went to work pinning hers to her shirt. 

Brian just stared at the badge. It was disappointing, really; smaller than the palm of his hand, and rather light as well. Not to mention the fact that there had to be some sort of moral conflict since they were fucking outlaws attempting to be lawmen in this backwards town.

“You’re supposed to put it on,” Kelly’s voice cut through his thoughts. 

When he did nothing but look at her with a blank gaze, she shook her head and pinned it to his shirt herself. 

The sheriff stumbled back inside from wherever he was, pointing at Brian and Kelly with a wavering finger. “There’s shine in them woods,” He told them. “And it is costing this county it’s good name! And the state a whole lot of income. If you don’t mind rooting it out, we can talk about making you permanent- I gotta sit me down a second.” 

As he damn near fell into his chair, Brian stood up and shared a look with Kelly and Marcel. The two of them gave him a very pointed glare, and he knew their day was now taken.

“Alright,” he relented. “Not a problem, we’ll do it. You’re in safe hands now.” 

“And people waste time with that temperance shit,” Marcel snickered as they exited the sheriff’s office. 

They went to get up on their horses, only to be stopped by Archibald McGregor running out of the building after them. 

“Now wait a minute!” He called after them, gesturing wildly at something only he could see. “There is a chain of command here, sirs… an-and madam!” He stuttered at Kelly’s withering gaze, then attempted to stand up straighter. “As freshly deputized persons, you all need the accompaniment of a veteran lawman, such as myself.”

Brian nodded with a smile, placed his hands on Archibald’s shoulder, and turned to face his companions. “Hear that, you two? Archibald is in charge.”

“Of course he is,” Marcel agreed with a grin. 

“Who else would be?” Kelly shrugged as if it were obvious. 

Archibald pursed his lips, but didn’t let their ribbing get to him. He just jerked his head to the sheriff’s office. “Let me get the wagon, and we can be on our way to this illegal shine.” 

“Yes, sir.” Brian saluted the deputy as he marched off. 

Kelly chuckled. “Moving up in the world, aren’t we boys?” 

“This is insane,” Brian hissed to them. “You two have lost your minds!” 

Marcel raised his arms to the town around them. “In a place full of drunkards, hillbillies, and racists, simple thieves like us were bound to be moralizers.” 

Brian’s retort was cut off by the deputy pulling a wagon up to them. “Fergeson, you’re with me. Let’s get this over with.”

Brian had managed about two steps into the swamp before misjudging the depth of the muck and damn near face-planting the ground when his boot sank right through the mud, damn near up to his knee. 

“This is fuckin’ disgustin’,” He seethed, accent thickening his outrage. 

Kelly merely clapped him on the shoulder as she trodded easily through the mire. “Suck it up, princess. We got a job to do.” 

“Ain’t a princess,” Brian grumbled. He pulled his leg free with a sickening gurgle emitting from the muck, and carried on. 

Deputies Archibald and Marcel were already crouched low and observing from behind a very large tree by the time Kelly and Brian got to them, surveying what lay in the clearing just ahead. 

It was just a distillery, and (in Brian’s humble opinion) wasn’t worth destroying. It could potentially be worth it to keep it for themselves, but they would need to learn how to use it all and that was coming far too close to making an honest living. 

Well, as honest a living as you can get making illegal moonshine deep in the swamp. 

“So how do we wanna do this?” The deputy asked, then immediately proceeded to say, “I think we should-” 

“How about we let Marcel here plan this one?” Brian interrupted him with a hand on his shoulder. “He may not have your  _ fine _ way with words, but he does have a way around guns.” 

Marcel rolled his eyes, but accepted the insulting compliment all the same. “I say we go in pairs,” He suggested, slinging his shotgun onto his shoulder. “Me and Kelly, you and McGregor. We take ‘em out quietly, then blow up the distillery.” 

“We’ll go right, you two go left,” Brian commanded. 

Then they were off. 

Brian and Archibald only saw three guys on their side, and - after Archibald’s insisting - didn’t kill them. Brian knocked them out as Archibald hog-tied them. 

Then Brian planted some dynamite around the distillery, and set it off by throwing a lit stick onto the bucket of bolts. 

The explosion was glorious, but he didn’t have much time to relish it; there was a camp further in the swamp, and it was filled with now-furious Lemoyne Raiders. 

Brian and Marcel took cover by a tree, Kelly by the remnants of the distillery, while Archibald McGregor was nowhere to be seen. 

The Raiders, in their anger, were no match; peeking out when they shouldn’t, taking cheap shots, even leaving their cover to try and sprinting at them with the hopes that… something would happen. 

It took less than ten minutes for everything to be calm once again. 

Walking back to the wagon, Brian wasn’t entirely surprised to see Deputy Archibald loading jugs of moonshine into the wagon. He shot a glance to Marcel and Kelly, and immediately knew they were all thinking the same thing.

Brian meandered up to the wagon, leaned on the wheel, and peered in. At least a dozen jugs sat there, gleaming in the sunlight. “I see some of the shine survived,” He commented, watching the deputy freeze. “Would you like us to destroy it?” 

The deputy looked at him, mustache quivering ever so slightly, looked to Kelly and Marcel standing behind him, then back at Brian. “Well, I- I usually take it, f-for personal consumption, it’s sorta part of the job.”

Brian raised a single eyebrow. 

“But I better, uh, I better get back home so why don’t I take a jug or two and leave you the rest, to show there’s no hard feelings on account of… the war.” 

“We are all Americans,” Marcel told him with a smile. 

“We’ll drop you and the shine that’s yours off at the sheriff’s office,” Brian said, looking around them and spotting the pile of unconscious Raiders. “And your buddies, too. Kelly, Marcel, load ‘em into the wagon for our friend here.” 

Deputy Archibald looked all kinds of unhappy, but he stood back to let the criminals do the law’s work.

When Brian drove the wagon into camp, with Marcel and Kelly on either side of him, he was met with mild praise from Tyler, a slap on the back from Evan, and a bowl full of stew from Brock. 

Later, when night had fallen and most of their camp was asleep, Brian went to find Craig. The man had been rather absent from the evening, but at night, he took up residence on the beach. 

He was there, as usual, with a bottle of whiskey and his journal that he kept plans in. 

Brian shuffled up to him, keeping his movements slow and steady as if he were approaching a wild animal. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Craig asked him, obviously on guard and suspicious. 

“Just to talk,” Brian said. He debated sitting down, but he figured he wouldn't be there long enough. “About that shine I brought in.” 

“Yeah, fuckin’ congratulations on that.” 

Brian withheld a sigh. “It’s Braithewait shine.” 

A pause. Then, “You want a medal?”

Brian glared. “Perhaps you could do something with it?” 

“I don’t need your damn help.” 

“Then shove it up your ass for all I care!” Brian snapped, immediately flexing his hands to prevent himself from wrapping them around Craig’s throat. “There’s nothing more I can do with it, I figured you’d come up with something for it all.” 

“So it’s your trash? Thanks.” 

Brian wouldn’t rise to the bait, no sir. He had more manners than that. “Goodnight, Craig.” He didn’t hear a reply as he left the beach, but he didn’t fucking need one. Whatever friendship was there, whatever brotherhood they had built, was gone, crushed underneath their boots. And that was just fine by Brian.

“Do you think you could do me a favor?” 

Nogla looked up from his wood carving - it was meant to be a cow, but it looked more and more like a deranged Minotaur with every passing moment - to meet Brock’s worried gaze. 

“Yeah, man, what do you need?” Nogla set down his poor cow-thing and stood up. 

“Could you take Lauren with you into Rhodes? She’s getting antsy but won’t admit it.” Brock sounded like he even hated to admit that his wife had a weakness. 

Nogla just chuckled, pat Brock on his shoulder, and went over to where Lauren was chopping vegetables with just a bit more force than was probably necessary. 

“You busy?” He asked, staying a bit further from her than he probably needed to, but he liked his fingers staying where they were. 

Lauren looked up at him, face immediately easing into a smile. “Hi, sweetheart, how are you?” 

“I’m good, I’m good. You?” 

“Just fine.” Lauren noticed a lack of her husband around them, and tilted her head. “Brock put you up to this?” 

Nogla shook his head far too quickly. “What? No, no, he’s uh, takin’ a shite.” 

“Right.” 

“It’s a nice day for a ride, huh? You want to go into Rhodes with me? You said we needed some shoppin’ done, right?” 

“I know what you’re doing,” She said plainly, but there was fondness in her voice. “Brock told you to take me into town, yeah?” 

When Nogla could only shrug and look at the ground, she chuckled. 

“Well, he isn’t wrong in thinking I could use an outing. Let’s go.” She patted Nogla on the shoulder on her way to the wagon. “I’ve got a list of what we need already.” 

On his way over, Nogla saw Evan sitting in his tent and reading. A quick glance around camp proved that both Tyler and Jonathan were out and about, so Nogla decided to knock on the wooden post supporting the tent flap that served as a door. 

Evan shut his book with a huff and gave Nogla a light glare. 

Nogla just smiled, and gestured to where Lauren was waiting. “Wanna go shoppin’ with us?” 

Evan thought for a moment, weighed the pros and cons of going anywhere with Nogla - trouble was sure to follow - then stood with a nod. “Why not? I got a letter needs posting anyways.” 

“Letter to who?” Nogla asked as he and Evan walked over to the wagon. 

“Noneya.” 

“Noneya?”

“None ya’ business.” Evan smacked Nogla upside the head, which earned a punch to his arm, and nearly devolved into full out wrestling if it weren’t for Lauren’s warning cough. 

As Evan left the post office and headed for where they had parked the wagon beside the general store, he caught sight of Lauren standing by while some random dude - presumably the shop owner - was loading their groceries into the wagon. 

“Where’s Nogla?” Evan asked, searching the street for their tall friend.

Lauren pointed across the street. “Weapon store, said something about needing a new holster.” 

“Oh yeah, his got fucked up the other day. He said it was by a honey badger, and honestly, knowing Nogla and knowing honey badgers, that’s probably true.” 

“Probably,” Lauren agreed. The shop owner finished loading their food, and Lauren tossed him a coin for his help. “Here you go, thanks.” 

He just sneered at her and walked into the store. 

“Give it back then,” Lauren snapped at the man’s back as she secured the back of the wagon. “I didn’t ask for his help,” She told Evan’s questioning gaze. 

“We ready to go?” Nogla shouted from across the street.

Evan rolled his eyes, and waved him over. “Yes, dumbass, we’re going home.” 

By the time he and Lauren had gotten up on the wagon, Nogla had sprinted across the street - coating his pants in red clay dust - and hopped up onto the back.

Evan was driving the wagon back home when two men on horseback rode into the middle of the road, effectively blocking him. 

He shared a glance with Lauren, whose hand was inching towards the revolver in his holster. 

Wordlessly, he handed it to her, but kept his eyes on the men in front of them. 

“How can we help you, gentlemen?” Evan asked, noting out the corner of his eye more of them appearing from the sides. 

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider territory,” One of them said. “You gotta pay the toll here to use these roads.” 

“We’re in free country, we aren’t paying you anything,” Lauren told him, carefully taking the reins from Evan. “Now excuse us so we can head home.” 

The other man stepped forward, raising his rifle at her. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

“This!” Lauren simultaneously snapped the reins and fired the revolver at the man dead in his heart. 

Startled, their horses took off, running the other man down in their haste to get away. 

Evan stood up in his seat and together, he and Nogla took out the remaining Raiders that were behind them all. 

With a final shot and cheer, Nogla took out the last one, and then they were home-free. 

It was only as they were pulling up to the camp that it hit Evan what Lauren had done back there; if she wasn’t already married, he considered proposing to her right there and then.

“You’re my hero,” Evan told her as they started unloading the groceries. 

Lauren just chuckled, and pulled him in for a warm hug. “I’m no hero, dear, I’m just done with people taking from me and my family.”

She left after that to greet Brock, and Evan felt weak in the knees. 

Nogla came up next to him, watching as Lauren skirted around Brock to start scolding Brian for trying to steal the carrots for tonight’s stew, presumably to give them to the horses. 

“I think we collectively have a new Ma,” Nogla said quietly. 

“And a Pa,” Evan agreed, watching as Brock joined in on the admonishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't quite decided what Brock and Lauren's final role will be in the story, but they are the collective parents of the entire gang now. We all need a good Brock and Lauren in our lives.


	15. tomfoolery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Craig's time to shine and he jumps out of a window.

It had taken a few hours and a whole lot of staring at the offending stockpile but eventually, towards the early hours of dawn, an idea popped into Craig’s head. 

A brilliant idea, one so perfect he couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to think of it.

He quickly found Evan, who was still asleep and burrowed in between Tyler and Jonathan. Figuring he’d be at least a little courteous to the three of them, Craig left to go find Chrissy instead. 

She was awake, as was usual for her to be up and about this early. She was putting on her boots as Craig approached, and didn’t stop when she saw who was at her tent. 

“How can I help you?” She asked, tying the laces with intense focus. 

“I got a mission for us today,” Craig told her cheerily.

“You’ve finally come up with something.” Chrissy sounded genuinely pleased, so Craig let slide the small fit of irritation that passed through him. “What is it?” 

“Let me grab Evan, then I’ll tell you. Meet us by the ‘shine wagon.” 

Five minutes later saw Craig and Chrissy ready to go while Evan was dragging his feet and drinking a cup of coffee as fast as he could. 

“Let’s go, Fong, we got shit to do!” Craig clapped his hands and climbed up on top of the wagon, settling onto the bench and taking the reins. 

Chrissy got up next to him, leaving Evan to down the rest of his coffee and settle in the back with the moonshine. 

“So what are we doing?” Evan asked, watching as they pulled out of their camp. 

“I think it’s time we formally introduce ourselves to the Braithewait’s, don’t you agree?” 

“Flouncing their stolen liquor in front of them?” Chrissy brought up, crossing her legs and lighting a cigarette. 

“Offer it back,” Craig corrected her. “They have a market for it, we sure as hell don’t. Surely they’ll appreciate a few lowly citizens bringing back their stolen goods, and find it within themselves to offer a reward.” 

“Why can’t we just keep it? Booze is booze,” Evan remarked. 

Without turning to face him, Craig told him, “Ev, drink some, right now.” He watched out of the corner of his eye as Chrissy turned to look at Evan. 

He heard the pop of the cork, the slosh of the liquor, and Evan damn near coughing his lungs out to get the hellfire they call moonshine out of his body. 

“Give it here,” Chrissy demanded once Evan got control of himself. 

Then Craig got to listen as Chrissy took a sip, then spluttered and gagged so hard she almost fell off the wagon. 

“Fuck me, that’s horrible!” She handed the jug back to Evan with a look of pure disgust. “Is everyone in this state so fucking braindead they don’t know they be better off drinking cow piss?” 

“So if you want me to turn this wagon around and we bring this stuff back to camp, I can do that-” 

“God, no, let’s give it back to them,” Evan interrupted him, popping the cork back onto the jug and placing it on the floor of the wagon. 

Craig nodded. “That’s what I thought.” 

The Braithewait estate was incredibly large; tobacco fields, stretching seemingly as far as the eye could see, with a mansion towards the back of property and collection of smaller buildings off to the side. 

Workers tended to the dry fields, hardly giving the wagon of outlaws a second glance as they drove through the main road up to the mansion of a big house. 

The road was lined with huge trees towering far above them, their branches laiden with age forming what felt like a tunnel of pure nature surrounding them. 

Craig felt as if he were passing monuments to time instead of just trees. He had never felt smaller in his whole life than he did as they drove through the branches’ shadows. 

Then he was pulling the wagon up to the gate just before the main house and the moment was over. 

Four men stood at the gate, and they wandered over to the wagon and started inspecting it and its occupants.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” One of them demanded, standing in the middle of the gate with his rifle raised towards them.

“We are but lowly wanderers, driven from the North and looking for work,” Craig said. “May we speak to the man of the house?” 

“The  _ man _ of the house is a woman,” The man told him, meeting his gaze directly. “Ms. Catherine Braithewait.” 

Craig bowed his head. “My apologies. May we speak with her? We have a business opportunity she might be interested in.” 

“What’s in the wagon?” One of the men asked, watching Evan with care.

“Moonshine, my fellow.” 

“You planning to cause any trouble?” 

“No, sir, none at all. You can shoot us if you disagree, however.” Craig ignored Chrissy’s elbow that dug into his side. 

“Fine, you can speak with Ms. Braithewait.” The same man hopped up onto the back of the wagon, keeping his space from Evan. “Drive up.” 

A very severe-looking woman stood on the steps awaiting them; she was surrounded by three more men, each of them looking messier than the other. The woman’s appearance was immaculate, however; graying hair neatly pinned up, expensive purple dress free of wrinkles, and shined shoes tapping impatiently on the marble of her house. 

“What do you want?” She called out before the wagon had even come to a stop.

“We found something,” Craig replied, quickly stopping the wagon and climbing down. “Out in the hills, thought maybe you were in the market for it.” 

“I ain’t in the market for what’s already mine,” The woman, who had to be Catherine Braithewait, said, anger leaking into her southern drawl. 

Craig raised his hands in surrender and plastered what he hoped was an easy-going smile on his face. “Way we see it, we found it, so it’s ours. A-and for the life of me, we all looked but we couldn’t find your name on it.” 

Catherine Braithewait narrowed her eyes at him, bringing her hands to her hips, almost balking at his attitude. The men beside her raised their weapons at him, ready to attack on her command.

“Relax, we ain’t here to rob you. Though it seems easy enough to do,” Craig admitted, glancing behind him to Evan and Chrissy. They each gave him a questioning look, which he ignored. “What do you sell your liquor for?”

“Two dollars a bottle,” Catherine Braithewait answered through gritted teeth. 

“Then gives us a dollar.” 

“It’s already ours!” 

“Think of it as a reward for returning it,” Chrissy piped up, taking a step forward and looking past all the guns that were instantly aimed at her. “Alternative is we go sell it someplace else.” 

“Alternative is you get shot,” One of the men spat at her. 

Evan stepped forward and placed his hand on Craig’s shoulder. “Now who wants to get shot over some liquor?” 

One of the men aimed his shotgun straight at him, finger lingering awfully close to the trigger.

Catherine Braithwait grabbed the barrel of the shotgun with a quick snap of her arm, an extremely thin smile stretching her painted lips. “Pay them.”

The man whose weapon she took stalked inside the house, reappearing a moment later with a stack of cash. He threw it to Craig, then took his shotgun back from Catherine Braithewait.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Craig said, handing the disappointingly light bundle of bills to Chrissy. “Though I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but we didn’t take your liquor. Now we aren’t sure, but I think that Sheriff Gray-” 

“Yes, Sheriff Gray took it, that isn’t news to me.” Catherine Braithewait thought for a moment, then her scowl turned into something more malicious. “You know, I don’t even want it anymore. In fact, now you three can do me a favor. There’s an extra ten bucks if you.” 

Craig shared a look with Chrissy and Evan, but they were all ears. 

“Drive the stuff into Rhodes, head to the saloon run that Sheriff Gray, and hand the stuff out for free.” 

The man to her left huffed. “But Momma-” 

“Hush now.” Catherine Braithewait stood to her full height and fanned out her arms. “I believe they call that a promotional expense.” 

Craig could’ve laughed. He did, actually. “As you wish, madam.”

As they turned to leave, Catherine Braithewait called out, “Y’all come back sometime, tell me how you made out. Maybe we’ll play a little cribbage.” She shoved one of the men out of the way to get back inside her house. 

As the three outlaws got back in their wagon and left the Braithewait mansion behind, Chrissy let out a long sigh. 

“She’s so impressive,” She remarked, stretching her feet out in front of her and looking towards the sky. “Holy shit, I really want to play cribbage with her.” 

“Me too,” Evan agreed. “We should play cribbage with her.” 

“Evan, you don’t even know what cribbage is,” Craig commented. 

“She can teach me.” 

“Maybe another day, we have booze to get rid of.” 

As they drove up the red clay road of Rhodes, Chrissy immediately formulated a plan. 

“You two are gonna be some clowns,” She stated. “And I’m your manager, trying to spread the word about your new act.” 

“Absolutely not,” Craig immediately said. 

“I refuse,” Evan added. 

Chrissy said nothing, just leaned back in her seat and watched her opportunity grow ever closer.

When they pulled up around the back of the saloon, she immediately hopped down. “Get a couple cases of shine, boys,” She ordered, strolling up to the two men lingering by the back door. “Good day, gentlemen, how are you?” 

“What are you doin’ back here, lady?” The one sitting on the doorstep asked. 

“How would you two like to make a couple of bucks?” Chrissy rummaged in her pocket, finding two rumpled bills and holding them out. “One for each of you, yeah? To leave the door unattended.” 

The two boys shared a look, then the sitting one shook his head. “Sheriff Gray’ll have our hides.” 

“Then two bucks each,” Chrissy offered, digging for more bills. “For thirty minutes, that’s all I ask. These two clowns here,” She gestured to Evan and Craig behind her as they approached with cases of moonshine. “They really need to make a name for themselves, you see. Come on, help these fellers out.” 

The boys shared another look, took Chrissy’s money, and disappeared without a moment’s hesitation.

Chrissy skipped up to the door and held it open. “After you, boys,” She said with a smile. 

Evan and Craig walked through with a scowl on their faces, and headed for the back of the bar. 

Chrissy herself went around the bar into the main room of the saloon. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen!” She raised her voice and her arms, making sure to have everyone’s attention. “For the next half hour, all drinks are free! You heard me,  _ free! _ . My companions here, they’re mighty fine clowns, you see. They’ll pour you a drink and give you a laugh, all you gotta do is put them to work!” 

The patrons erupted into cheers and jeers and laughter, and Chrissy caught Craig’s modest glare out the corner of her eye as she surveyed her handy work.

The next half-hour - which soon turned into an hour - was a complete blur. Patron after patron flooded on through, eager to get their taste for the free moonshine. 

Evan couldn’t even begin to count the amount of shots he poured. He even began to partake as well, drinking enough to lighten his mood to the point where he began to truly act his part of a clown; he cracked enough jokes to get a laugh out of everyone, even Craig, whose glare was seemingly transfixed to his face. 

Despite the drinks being free, a few happy-go-lucky customers through tips at them, earning them a good twenty dollars. 

Of course, just as Craig began to crack a smile and they were getting close to running out of moonshine altogether, a group of newcomers all holding rifles and looking pissed stormed the bar. 

“That’s Raider shine you’re handing out there!” The main one shouted. “It’s ours, and someone’s gotta pay for it!” 

“That someone will be you!” Craig shot the man dead through his skull, ducking underneath the bar as chaos was unleashed; gunfire, glass breaking, patrons screaming, all the while hoping that a stray shard of glass wouldn’t embed itself in his eye. 

Craig shot up enough to take a few pot-shots, then crouched back down and almost stopped breathing. 

Evan was stuffing a rag into a jug of moonshine, and had his pack of matches on the ground beside him. 

Craig lunged forward and snatched the matches, much to Evan’s chagrin. 

“What the hell, you want these idiots dead or not?” 

“Guys, start shooting or I swear to God!” Chrissy shouted from somewhere around them. 

“You’re not burning the entire place down!” Craig demanded, waiting for the raiders to reload to stand up. He managed to take another two out, and jump for a table closer to the stairs; the main exit was blocked, they needed another way out. 

“Upstairs, cover me!” Chrissy shouted, popping up from an overturned table like a damn gopher and sprinted for the stairs. 

Evan and Craig both stood to cover her, shooting anyone who so much as looked at her; they followed afterwards, and saw what she was aiming for; a large window facing the direction they had parked the wagon. 

Just as Craig was about to clear the way, a Raider exited an offset room and slammed into Craig, damn near sending the both of them off the balcony. 

Evan sent a bullet through his throat, and shoved him over the edge; he didn’t give Craig a moment to be grateful, either, just pushed him to the window. 

Chrissy shot the window twice, shattering the glass. Then she took a running start, and jumped on through; she landed on the overhead roof of the door, then jumped to the wagon. 

Evan followed behind her, stumbling a bit but making it to the wagon. 

When it was Craig’s turn, another Raider got behind him. This one had a knife, and wasn’t partial to where it landed. He slashed like a flailing child, getting Craig deep on his arm; he didn’t feel it yet, adrenaline doing its job and numbing the pain. 

“Let’s go!” Evan shouted from the ground, spotting the law approaching from the other side of town. 

Craig cursed; he was out of rounds, so he threw caution to the wind and just fucking jumped; he hit the wagon with a heavy  _ oof _ , and then they were off into the wind.

They rode for close to an hour to ensure they weren’t being followed, and by that point, Craig’s entire body hurt. 

His adrenaline was gone, and with it’s passing came the growing pains and aches and all-around suffering. His arm was bleeding all over the place, his legs were so painful he was half-worried he broke ‘em with his landing, and his head was pounding with the force of an angry god. 

His tent was more than a welcome sight when they eventually pulled into camp. 

He was even able to tolerate Simone’s hovering out of sheer relief of being back home. 

A bowl of stew was placed in his hands, and he’s fairly sure it was dosed with laudanum as he ate, because he soon felt much better. 

That, and some whiskey helped. He managed to ignore Simone poking and prodding at his legs, deeming them not broken much to his relief. 

“Just don’t make that nonsense a habit,” She scolded him when he finally admitted what happened. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

When she had left - after wrapping his arm up and berating him some more - Brian had entered. 

Craig could feel his peaceful mood souring, but he refused to let Brian get the best of him right now. 

It looked like he wouldn’t have to try so hard though. 

“You make out alright?” Brian asked, taking a seat without being offered. “Heard y’all got into a scuffle.” 

“Shootout, more like.” Craig set his empty bowl on the ground, and laid down on his cot. “Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse. Evan and Chrissy are fine, that’s what matters.” And that’s what does matter - that everyone else is okay. 

“As long as you didn’t die,” Brian conceded. “Glad you found a use for that shine.” 

“What’re you doing here?” Craig tried his best to sound truly curious, like he was. Not suspicious, like he also was. 

“Just catching up,” Brian answered easily. “Figured if we’re gonna be working these families, we might as well be up to date on what’s going on.” 

“Right, okay. Well, go get Evan or Chrissy to fill you in, I need to rest.” Exhaustion was pulling at Craig’s bones, both from the laudanum and from a full stomach. 

“Of course, prince needs his beauty rest.” There was just enough bite in Brian’s voice to overshadow any sort of friendliness that remark might once have had. “I’ll talk to you later, then.” 

Though his voice was cold, Brian was still a warm-hearted man. The last thing Craig saw before sleep pulled him under was Brian taking the empty bowl from the nightstand and shutting the flap to Craig’s tent. 


	16. shite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nogla finds a job. It goes wrong, and it's not (it totally is) Nogla's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a real quick chapter because I'm in the middle of exams and they're taking more out of me than I thought. I'm almost done though, which is a relief. 
> 
> Hope y'all are doing well, and I hope this chapter makes you smile a little.

Jonathan rode back into camp with a triumphant grin. It had been his turn to go hunting, and he had managed to get a deer and a rabbit within an hour, just before the sun reached it's worst and the day grew too hot to be comfortable. 

He dropped the carcasses off at Lauren and Brock’s table, where they thanked him with a quick lunch of some bread and dried meat. He wandered the camp, looking for a spot to enjoy his meal by himself, when he saw Ohm. 

His brother-in-arms was over by the woods, and a little white blur kept darting between his feet. He was laughing; it’d been a while since Jonathan had heard Ohm laugh like that, truly care-free and  _ happy _ . 

Upon further inspection, the little white blur was a little white dog. A little white dog with brown spots, floppy ears, and adorable eyes. Jon watched as Ohm picked up the small dog and hugged him close. 

“We got a new friend?” Jonathan asked as he neared, speaking around a mouthful of bread. 

Ohm startled at his presence, but quickly relaxed. He smiled, and held out the little dog. “Isn’t he the cutest? Found him wandering out by the lake on my way from town, think he was abandoned. Maybe ‘cause of his size?” 

The dog began wiggling, trying to get closer to the food in Jon’s hands. Ohm set him back down on the ground, where he trotted over and began trying to climb Jon’s boots.

Relinquishing a small piece of meat, Jonathan crouched down to feed him. “Sure is tiny. You named him yet?” 

Ohm plopped himself down on the grass, watching as the dog grabbed the piece of meat and began working on it with his little teeth. “Tiny… I like it.” 

Smiling at his brother’s lack of imagination, but also knowing that he himself probably couldn’t come up with a better name, he nodded. “Tiny the dog.” 

Both men’s - and dog’s - attention was drawn by a set of heavy footsteps approaching. 

“There you are, Jesus, been lookin’ all over camp for you,” Nogla exclaimed, crossing his arms in annoyance. “Hidin’ away from everyone like some damn hermits.” He crouched down to give the dog a gentle pat, then stood back to his obnoxious full height. “I heard of a carriage that needs robbin’, you two in?” 

Jonathan looked to Ohm, who - for the first time since their older brother had left - looked like he actually wanted to go out. 

“We’re gonna need more details than that, man,” Ohm said, standing as well. “Especially with you.” 

“Not you as well?” 

“Us as well what?” 

“Think all jobs with me end horribly.” Nogla had the gall to look offended. “That shite’s just rude, I’m good at what I do.” 

“Good at getting people shot,” Ohm agreed. 

“That’s only happened three times in my life.” 

“Yeah, I was one of those times,” Jon snapped. “You left me behind to bleed all over the living room of the house we were robbing.”   
Nogla waved his hand at him. “I knew you were fine. And besides, we still got the money at the end of the night, that’s what matters.” 

“Getting the money and being alive to use it helps.” 

“Anyways!” Nogla rolled his eyes, and spotted Anthony attempting to bring firewood over to the main fire. “Anthony, come here, friend, come here.” 

“What’s going on?” He asked, dropping the firewood at his feet and walking over. 

“Has a job we’ve gone on ever gone wrong?” 

“We’ve barely done anything together.” 

“Exactly.” Nogla seemed satisfied, and turned back to Ohm and Jonathan. “Now, come on, I’ve heard of a payroll carriage that comes in later, briefly unguarded for a stretch. It’ll be easy!” 

Jonathan shared a look with Ohm, having an entire conversation without saying a word. Finally, Jon turned back to Nogla. “As long as we get paid or you get shot, we’re in.” 

“You’re a sick man, Jon. Anthony, you in?” 

“I’ve got nothin’ better to do, let’s go,” Anthony said with a careless shrug. 

Later that afternoon, when the sun was high enough in the sky that any mild movement caused sweating to start, the four outlaws found themselves on top of a hill, waiting. 

And waiting. And waiting some more. 

“Fucking hell Nogla, when is the damn thing supposed to be here?” Anthony asked, wiping his forehead for the hundredth time. 

Even Ohm and Jonathan, normally used to the hottest weather the deep south had to offer, were getting a bit uncomfortable. 

“Soon,” Nogla replied like he always did. 

Just as Jonathan was about to turn his horse around and go the fuck back to camp, a lone carriage popped up over the hill in the distance. 

“Masks up,” Ohm said, voice low with anticipation. It’d been too long since he’d gone on a job, he missed this. 

By the time the carriage had come around, the four outlaws had it surrounded. 

“Hands in the air!” Jonathan commanded, raising his rifle towards the driver and his companion. 

Anthony and Nogla searched the back, quickly finding the lockbox. 

“You really don’t wanna do this,” The driver said, his voice quivering. “I work for Mr. Cornwall, and he-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Jonathan snarled. 

“Jon,” Ohm pointed to something in the distance. 

“Fuck.” 

More riders were approaching fast, guns firing at them even with the distance messing up their shots. 

“Guys, we need to go!” 

“Got it!” Nogla popped open the lockbox, grabbed everything inside of it, then jumped from the carriage onto his poor horse. 

Anthony climbed down first, and then the four of them were racing off into the woods, doing their best to ignore the bullets racing after them into the forest. 

“This is all your fuckin’ fault!” Jonathan shouted at Nogla, trusting his horse to not hit a tree as he turned around to shoot at the men behind them. 

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?” Nogla yanked his reins hard to keep his horse from tripping into a fallen log. 

“No payroll carriage is ever unguarded!” Ohm told him, spotting an opening in the forest. “Follow me!” 

The four of them burst out from the woods onto a small farm. 

“Get off your horses,” Ohm commanded, taking charge of the group for now. “Get rid of them, let’s hide out in that barn,” he pointed to a small structure on the other side of the property, closer to the forest’s edge. 

Without a word, they all dismounted, and smacked their horses’ hindquarters to get them running.

“Fuckin’ bounty hunters,” Anthony muttered as they entered the barn. 

“Stay low,” Jonathan hissed, watching the trees for any signs of their pursuers. 

Ohm sat himself on a pile of hay, and hoped they were good for a little while; the barn was in disrepair, with parts of the wooden walls missing and the stalls barely held together with rusted hinges; surely no one would come looking for them here. 

“What’d we get for this shitshow?” He asked, setting his rifle on his lap. 

Nogla shrugged, and took out the money he’d stuffed into his satchel. A quick count, and he huffed. “We only got a grand.” 

Jonathan scoffed. “After the camp gets its half, we only get one hundred?” 

“One twenty, Jon,” Ohm corrected him. Math was never the younger’s strong suit. 

“Still. Not enough for this to be worth it, I mean, how the hell are we getting home?” 

“Yeah, Ohm,” Nogla turned to the older outlaw, stuffing the money away. “How  _ are _ we getting home?” 

“We’ll split up, then head back when it’s night,” He answered easily, unbending under the pressure. “Hike the entire way if we have too, but I’m sure some poor idiot will be out there with a horse to steal-” 

“Everyone, hide!” Jonathan hissed, ducking underneath one of the half-broken stalls. 

Ohm hid behind what was left of a wall, while Nogla went for the other stall on the far side of the barn, leaving Anthony to hide by the workbench. 

Looking through the cracks between the rodding planks, Nogla peered out and saw what made Jon scramble like a madman; two lawmen had ridden up to the main house and were speaking to a woman on the porch. 

They were too far away for their words to be discerned, but the tones of their voices carried, and they were not very happy with the situation. 

Then they began meandering down the hill, towards the barn. One of them lit up a cigarette while the other made exaggerated hand gestures, probably complaining to his partner.

Once they got closer to the point where their words - definitely heavy complaining - were audible, Ohm hissed, “Stay down.”

The lawmen entered the barn, but didn’t make it very far into the actual structure.

“Place is a shithole,” The first lawmen said after taking a drag of his cigarette. “They wouldn’t still be here.” 

“You’re probably right-” 

Nogla let out a sneeze and then a curse.

The first lawmen dropped his cigarette, the both of them instantly whirling their guns towards where Nogla was. 

“Who’s there?” The second lawmen demanded. “Come out with your hands up!” 

Faced with the decision to either obey or shoot them, Nogla, of course, was frozen. 

Luckily, Ohm and Jonathan came up behind the two lawmen and lightly pierced their necks with their knives, thoroughly killing them. 

“Nice, Nogla,” Ohm snapped, kicking the dead lawman at his feet. 

“I sneezed! What, I’m not allowed to sneeze?” 

“No!” 

“Guys,” Anthony gestured wildly to the slowly growing fire from the abandoned cigarette that was starting to ignite the walls. “We need to  _ go _ !” 

Another six hours later, and Evan watched as the four outlaws arrived back in camp covered in a variety of soot, mud, leaves, and scratches. They all dispersed; Ohm to his tent, Anthony to the lake to wash off, Nogla to where his horse had found its way back to camp, and Jonathan over to him and Tyler. 

“What the hell happened?” Evan asked, standing up to gather Jon in his arms. He grimaced at the muck that came off on his hands, and searched for a washcloth. 

“Jesus, are you hurt?” Tyler came up behind them with three bowls of stew. 

“Just angry,” Jonathan answered with a smile. “Nogla sneezed and got a barn lit on fire.” 

Evan’s eyes widened as he began wiping Jonathan’s face with a clean cloth. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Long story, but we got the camp five hundred bucks.” Jonathan plopped into a chair and Tyler  _ swore _ he could see a cloud of soot puff off the man’s clothes. 

“Eat,” He said, pressing a bowl into Jonathan’s hands. “You’ve earned it.” 

“Damn right I did.” 

“And after,” Evan said, taking a seat next to him on the floor. “You’re bathing.” 

“Fine by me.” 

Evan and Tyler shared a look of mutual shock; normally, someone had to damn near wrestle the wiry outlaw into a bath. Jonathan was quite like a feral raccoon when someone wanted him to get clean. He’d bite and screech and resist as much as he possibly could. 

Evan decided he was better off not knowing the full extent of what happened. 

He just hoped that Jon had learned to never let Nogla plan a job.


	17. private horse rustling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren and Brock have made a plan. Jonathan, Kelly, and Brian steal some horses and have some doubts.

“You got a minute?” 

Brian looked up from his journal - he’d been working on more plans for how to swindle the Gray’s, and had been coming up frustratingly empty - to see Lauren leaning on the tentpost. 

“Of course, what’s wrong?” He asked, sticking his pencil into his journal and shutting it without pause. 

“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” She replied. She offered her hand out with a small smile. 

Brian stared at her hand with only slight suspicion. 

“You’re meant to take my hand.” 

“No, I know that. But why?” 

“Because,” Lauren said as if it were obvious. She wiggled her fingers impatiently, and giggled when Brian finally took her hand. She began to lead him from his tent and towards her own that was set up a bit closer to the lake. “Brock’s out hunting, and I wanna dance.” 

“Dance?” Brian parroted, raising his eyebrows. He looked around the camp, but suddenly there was hardly anyone to be found; most were out and about. 

“We managed to save our gramophone, but I haven’t found the right time to listen to anything. Mood hasn’t hasn’t been quite right, I’m sure you understand.” Lauren stopped Brian just at the foot of her tent, where she had set up the device on a small table. “But today is lovely, and I find myself wanting to dance. Care to indulge me?” 

Brian’s heart started beating a little bit harder, and he glanced around camp one more time, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was hoping to find - maybe someone who would see them, and stop him from dancing with his friend's wife. He looked back to Lauren, and his knees went weak at the hope glittering in her eyes. 

“I-I can’t dance, I hardly know the basics, I’m sure Brock would make a better partner-” 

Lauren wound up the gramophone, and soft orchestral music began flowing from it. “Well, then he should’ve been here. But he isn’t, and you are. I can teach you, it’s not that difficult, I promise. You can even stand on my feet if you need to, I don’t mind.” Lauren took his hands, gently so as to not spook him, and began swaying to the music. “If you don’t want to, I understand. You don’t have to.” 

Brian almost backed out, almost took his leave right there and then, but something stopped him. Something about Lauren kept him there. But he shook that thought away. This was just him and a friend dancing. And he really needed a break from working constantly. That’s all this was.

With his rather weak rationalization repeating in his mind like a mantra, Brian asked, “Okay, so how the hell do I do this?” He definitely did  _ not _ want to resort to standing on Lauren’s feet. At least not yet. 

It took a good while of figuring each other out, but eventually they had found a nice rhythm; it wasn’t exactly dancing, since Brian was just about the worst imaginable, but it was close. It was nice. Lauren rested her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped him with Brian’s arms around her waist. They swayed to the music with utter peace and tranquility.

Brian could’ve stayed like that for a very long time. Then he saw Brock reenter camp and freaked.

“I-I have to go,” He stammered, backing away so quickly that Lauren almost lost her balance. “The, uh, Gray’s, there’s a lead, so- bye!” Brian hurried away, not  _ running _ because Brian Michael Hanby doesn’t run, but definitely walking fast. 

Lauren watched him flee, and greeted her husband with a glare. “You made him run away,” She told him as she crossed her arms. 

Brock didn’t look the least bit remorseful. “I’m sorry, love. Not my fault he’s more skittish than a squirrel.” He went to peck her cheek, which she accepted with a huff. “Aw, did I interrupt your dancing?” 

“We were having a moment,” Lauren swatted his arm. “We have to ease him into this, you know that!” 

“You act like I sabotaged you on purpose.” Brock smiled at his wife with as much adoration as he could muster, which was a fair amount. “We have all the time in the world to get closer to him, you know.” 

Lauren took a deep breath, and nodded. “You’re right, you’re right.” 

“I’m sorry, could you say that again? And a bit louder?” 

“Watch it, love. I’m not above making you sleep outside.”

Brock grinned. “I’m sure Brian would let me share his tent.” 

Jonathan was reluctant to go back out in the field so soon after the shitshow Nogla had conjured. He felt as if he was still covered in soot, despite it being a full two days - and three baths - after the incident. 

Then he had been told that Brian and Kelly had gone to the Gray’s, and he knew he should go over there to ensure they weren’t causing problems without him.

After being let in by the pisspoor guards, Jon was directed towards the stables. 

Pulling up his horse, he saw a balding man in a pristine suit sitting on a stack of hay while Brian and Kelly stood in front of him. 

“Listen, mister, we’re good people,” Brian was saying, his accent thicker than usual. “Like you.” 

“You don’t know me. You turn up in this town, you’re helping everybody. And everywhere, there’s troubles.” The man’s tone was less than pleasant. “Who  _ are _ you?” 

Jonathan strolled on up to this mystery man, and Brian gestured to him. “And have you met my partner-” 

“Aidan Summers,” Jonathan filled in the blank.

The balding man hardly concealed a sneer. “No.” 

“I met your son, the sheriff.” 

“Okay.” 

Brian stepped forward before Jonathan could react. “Mister Gray here was saying how he had problems with a family. A family of degenerates.” 

Jonathan could’ve scoffed. “Well, no one likes degenerates.” 

Mister Gray’s mouth twitched, his scowl deepening. “That hag and her inbred sons. They killed my uncle, you know?” 

“And that ain’t right,” Kelly supplied. 

Mister Gray gave her a look that Jonathan didn’t like, but he kept quiet about it. He shouldn’t be surprised that this southern fool wouldn’t like her. “Problem is we can’t be seen to get too close.” 

“And?” Brian asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Mister Gray stood up in a quick, jerky movement to get closer to Brian. Despite Brian having a good few inches on the older man, Gray tried his best to look intimidating. “We got gold, Yankee,” He said, growing impatient. “We got gold.”

Brian raised his head just a bit higher. “I’m no Yankee, friend. I’m nothing. My Da came on a boat from Scotland.” 

Jonathan rolled his eyes at that; they were really milking that damn Scottish line for all they could. 

But it worked, since Mister Gray lit up just a fraction. “I’m Scottish,” He told them like it was major news that would change their lives. 

“And the Braithewait’s?” Kelly asked with a smirk. 

“Goddamn  _ peasants _ ,” Mister Gray spat, his hand clenching into fists, stepping to the front of the stables so his back was to them. “Mongrels. Slave fuckers. All you gotta do is  _ look _ at them.” 

The three outlaws all shared a look of disgust at the man’s hatred. Kelly was all too happy to stomp Gray’s ass into the ground, and it showed. But it was gone in a second, and their business faces were back. 

“How much gold?” Jonathan asked, deciding to switch topics to something more pertinent.

“Enough.” Gray turned back to the outlaws, gesturing wildly with his hands. “These are prized horses I’m talking about. Them, they’ll get you… five thousand.” 

Jon’s eyes widened, Kelly’s jaw dropped a bit, and Brian scoffed. “Five thousand? For horses?” Disbelief was plain and clear in his tone.

“Easy,” Mister Gray assured them. 

Jonathan shook his head. “And where do we sell these five thousand dollar horses.” 

“Over in Clemens Clove. Feller over there will run ‘em out of state, give you fifty cents on the dollar.” 

Jonathan looked at Kelly, who shrugged. He looked at Brian, who was giving Mister Gray his best smile. 

“Mister, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Brian told him. 

The two of them shook hands, and then Mister Gray ushered them out. “Just keep us out of this, publicly, I mean.” 

“My sense is we keep all horse-rustling out of the public,” Kelly told him like she was reprimanding a child.

Mister Gray scowled. “Go to the stables on the south side of the manor,” He directed them. “That’s where they keep the thoroughbreds.” 

They had ridden just past the fence of Caliga Hall when Kelly spoke up. 

“Five thousand for horses? Shit, we’ve been robbing the wrong people all these years.” 

“You don’t actually think we can get that much for some damn horses, do you, Bri?” Jonathan asked. He loved his own horse very much, but he would never pay that much. 

Brian shook his head. “That old fool doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But, if we get even a third of that much, it’ll be worth it.”

“So, how we gonna play this?” 

“No use in blasting in there, the place is too well guarded according to Craig.” 

“Oh, you managed to talk to him without him hissing profanities at you?” 

Brian huffed. “He’s got an attitude to the moon and back, that’s for damn sure. But I managed to avoid yelling at him long enough for him to tell me that there’s even more guards there than at the Gray’s place. They’re some paranoid bastards, that’s for sure.” 

“So we go there playin’ like we’re lookin’ to purchase,” Kelly surmised. 

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Three heavily armed people?” 

“You’d be armed too if you were gonna drop five thousand for some fuckin’ horses.” 

The three outlaws went the back way up to Braithewait Manor, where a lone guard stood at a gate towards the south edge of the property. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, waving his rifle around a bit too wildly for Brian’s liking. 

“We’re here to see about some horses, we had an appointment,” Brian answered as confidently as he could. 

“Yeah I never heard about any of that,” The guard said.

Brian pursed his lips. “Well, my partners and I were looking to make a  _ significant _ investment in some stables around here.” He looked around, slowly scanning the area around them. He turned to Jonathan with a roll of his eyes, and then to Kelly. “But perhaps we should look elsewhere.” 

The guard visibly startled at that. “I- well alright, h-head on up to the stables.” he hastily opened the gate up. “Someone will come see you, I’m sure.” 

“Thank you,” Brian said curtly. He urged his horse on down the path, leaving Jonathan and Kelly to follow. 

The stables were a bit down the path, and a lone man was standing outside of them, working on a saddle. 

“I’m taking the lead on this on, you boys have done enough talking,” Kelly announced quietly as they pulled on up. She hitched her horse first, and was sauntering up to the stablehand before either outlaw could say anything to disparage her. 

“Can I help you?” The stablehand asked, eyeing Kelly up and down before returning to oiling the saddle. 

“I hope so,” Kelly flashed a smile. “We heard you got some horses.” 

“We always got horses.” 

“ _ Fine _ horses, I mean.” 

The stablehand paused, flicking narrowed eyes towards her, then to Brian and Jonathan. “I don’t get you, friend,” He said, voice stiff. 

Kelly took a step closer. “Yeah, you do. Come on.” 

“Listen, why don’t you get out of here.” The stablehand tossed the rag onto his shoulder and placed his hands on his hips. “You and your ruffian buddies there.” 

“Woah!” Jonathan offered his own smile and raised his hands, palms out. “We aren’t ruffians, sir.” 

“We’re connoisseurs,” Brian commented, patting Jon’s shoulder. “Looking to do some breeding.” 

“Come on, partner,” Kelly said. 

The stablehand took another long look at the three of them, then huffed with utmost exasperation. “Fine, follow me.” He turned on his heel and led them into the stables. 

There were only three horses in the stalls, each of them eyeing the newcomers with lazy suspicion. There was a chestnut one, a black one, and a white one, and Kelly was eyeing them with a smile. 

Jonathan nudged her with his elbow, a silent reminder that they were going to steal these horses to sell, not keep them. 

She just gave him a glare, and turned to the stablehand.

“Here’s the studs, mostly available for purchase or for working if that’s what you’re interested in. What is it y’all are interested in?” 

“We represent a famous, uh-” Brian coughed. 

“Stable and stud farm,” Jonathan jumped in. 

“From Saratoga,” Kelly added. 

The stablehand cocked his head at all of them. “Is that so?” 

“Unofficially,” Jon admitted. 

“Of course.” The stablehand walked over to the chestnut stallion, petting his nose and offering him a sugar cube. “This here’s Cerberus, here you go, boy.”   
No one blinked when Kelly stepped behind the man and slid her knife across the man’s throat, sending a spray of blood across the poor stallion. 

“Fuck,” She said simply, letting the body thump to the floor. 

The horses startled, rearing up in their stalls and neighing too fucking loudly. 

“Bandannas on,” Brian commanded, moving the body out of sight. “I’ll get the one in the middle, you get the other two, we’ll tether them to Kelly’s horse.” 

“You had to kill the poor fella?” Jonathan asked as he went for the black stallion. He carefully opened the stall, showing his palms to the horse and cooing at it as best as he could. 

Kelly scoffed, already having calmed her own stallion. “He was a witness, yes, I did. Now fuckin’ move!”

As quickly as they could, they led the stallions from the stables. Tethering them to Kelly’s horse went well, and then everything went to shit. 

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Some guard shouted in the distance.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Jon, you ride point,” Brian commanded, waiting for them all to mount their own horses. “I’ll cover the back, if we get separated, regroup at Clemens Cove!” 

“Stop, stop those bandits!” 

“This is what it’s all about, boys!” Kelly shouted; she was grinning from ear to ear, taking potshots behind her while also trying to steer four horses at once. 

“Just focus!” Brian pleaded, shooting anyone approaching from their right.

Jonathan swore up a storm when he saw wagons blocking the main road out of the manor. “Cut through the fields!” 

Hoping that none of the horses would trip on a rock and break their ankles, Brian followed as they trampled through tobacco crops and into the woods. 

When they broke through the trees and onto an open field, they stopped for a break. 

“That could’ve gone smoother,” Jonathan remarked as he patted his horse for a job well done. 

“That’ll be on our gravestones,” Kelly remarked with a grin. 

Brian took the lead now since there weren’t a thousand guards chasing them. “This better be goddamn worth it. Let’s go.” 

The outlaws followed a half-broken wooden fence until they found the horse dealers. One of them was sitting on the fence with a book in his hands, wearing a blue shirt and bearing off facial hair. The other one was clean shaven with a red shirt, standing behind the fence and leaning on it. 

“You think they’re the kind to pay five thousand for horses?” Jonathan asked lowly.

Brian could only shrug. “Guess we’ll see,” he answered. When they got closer to the two men, he put on a smile. “Hello, gentlemen!” 

“What you boys want?” The man with the book snapped it shut and looked at the three outlaws with subtle amusement. 

Kelly jumped down from her mare, and gestured to the three stallions. “Heard you pay good prices for good horses.” 

Facial Hair smiled. “Oh, we’ll buy more or less anything, hun.” 

“That so?” Brian asked, stepping to Kelly’s side. 

“Sure, pop,” Facial Hair said easily. “I’m Clay Davis, and that’s my brother, Clive.” The brother in the red shirt gave them a dopey wave. “We’re twins,” Clay said. 

“I’m Brian,” The Irishman pointed to himself, then to his two partners. “Kelly, and Jon.” 

Clay looked to Jon, scanning him up and down. “You Italian?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“No,” Jonathan answered stiffly. 

“I don’t like Italians.” 

“Really?” 

“Maybe, why, what do you care? You ain’t Italian.” 

Jonathan shrugged with a wry smile. “Maybe  _ I _ like Italians.” 

Clay laughed like that was the funniest goddamn thing he’d heard all week. “You’re funny,” He told Jon. “He’s funny,” He said to Brian and Kelly. “Ain’t he funny, Clive?” He asked his brother, stalking back over to the fence. “Clive don’t talk. We’re twins, but I was born first.” 

As his brother talked, Clive grabbed the book and thumbed it open. 

“He came out all black and yellow, but he’s okay.” Clay noticed his brother had the book, and snatched it back with a scowl. 

“Sure,” Brian said for lack of anything else to say. 

Clay set the book down, and walked back on over. He observed the horses, hand going up to scratch at his chin. “Yeah, I know these horses. They ain’t yours. But I like you’s… and I’ll give ya, I can give ya six fifty for ‘em.” 

Brian scoffed, and clicked his tongue. “We were told we could get up to five thousand for ‘em.” 

“And I was told the moon was made out of ladies’ tears, only that ain’t true.” 

“But-” 

“I like you boys,” Clay interrupted, plastering on a weird smile. “But I ain’t got more than seven hundred on me.” He leaned back on the fence, nudging his brother with his elbow. “You want it, or you wanna ride them fellers into town and maybe someone there will hang ya for ‘em.” 

Kelly let her hand float near her pistol. “We’re gonna need more than that, friend.” 

“I ain’t got no more money, hun,” Clay spread his hands, looking genuinely regretful about it. He dug into his overalls and pulled out a stack of bills. He tossed it to Jonathan, who hardly managed to catch it. “Take it or leave it, pop.” 

Jonathan began rifling through the bills, ignoring the seething look from Kelly.

Clive opened the gate while Clay strolled up to them, holding his hands out for the reins. 

Kelly relinquished them with a final glare, lips pursed into a thin line of anger. 

“Ain’t no one ‘round here for five thousand dollars, miss,” He told her as he led the horses past the gate. “But nice meetin’ y’all. See you soon, I hope.”

When the three of them rode back to camp, Kelly watched as Jonathan dismounted and went to go greet Tyler and Evan. She grabbed Brian’s arm to stop him, waiting until she was sure they were alone. 

“Do you think Gray knew that would happen?” She asked earnestly, searching Brian’s eyes for the truth. 

Knowing to avoid false statements, he just shrugged. He covered her hand with his own. “I don’t know, maybe. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Doesn’t it though? What if we’re all just being played?” 

“If you wanna back out, you can-” 

“I’m not saying that, I just,” Kelly paused, searching for the right words. She looked over to the main camp, and saw Brock and Lauren huddled together, looking at the two of them. Probably waiting for Brian, she realized. “I have a bad feeling about all this, that’s all.” 

“About the Grays?” Brian furrowed his eyebrows.

“About everything!” Kelly looked shocked at her own outburst, then shook her head. “Forget it, it’s not important.” She left before Brian could get another word in, greeting Simone with a smile. 

Brian wanted to go tell her that he felt the same. He wanted to go tell her that he thought they should leave all this Gray-Braithewait business behind, that they should just fucking head west already, like they had planned to months ago.

But it wasn’t his call. And they needed the fucking money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really tough around the States right now, so I'm gonna try my best to keep updating regularly but I really cannot guarantee anything. 
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe, at least as much as you can be.


	18. a very busy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Jonathan go seek some information. Scotty and Chrissy find the love of their lives. Kelly and Brock say animal rights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof extra long chapter to make up for the short chapter. I think I'm getting back into the groove with this story, but only time will tell. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!

Evan could tell something was off the second he woke up. Neither Tyler nor Jon were in bed with him, and their sides of the cot were as cold as it would get with the southern heat starting to build. 

He crawled out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Despite wanting to just lay back down for another four hours, he figured he might as well get going with his day. 

A small grin forced its way past his exhausted scowl when he saw a cup of coffee on the table for him. It was sweetened just the way he liked it, and was drained in less than a minute. 

Evan emerged from the tent as refreshed as he could be. He went over to the kitchen area for an apple and some bread, navigating around Brock and Brian arguing about something inane.

He had to sidestep Tiny as the dog ran around camp with someone’s boot in his grip. Considering the boot was bigger than the dog himself, it was more than a little hilarious that he had managed to evade Ohm so far, but Ohm wasn’t giving up as he chased after the rascal. 

Evan just hoped that it wasn’t his own boot Tiny was gnawing on, and went for the beach to eat his breakfast.

Simone was already there, sitting on the log that been dragged down from the woods as a bench. She smiled up at Evan as he approached, and patted the empty space beside her. 

“Good mornin’,” She greeted him cheerfully. “You’re finally up.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna be,” Evan told her. He took a bite of his apple, and grinned at the glare he received for chewing loudly. 

“Your beaus have already been up for two hours,” She informed him, gazing out onto the lake. It was peaceful as always. “I think something’s bothering them.” 

“I’m sure it is.” Neither of them could let anything go for too long. “I’ll talk to them after I eat.” 

Simone nodded, and was content to let a nice quiet settle over them. 

Evan continued eating, alternating between bites of apple and bites of bread, and noticed that she was fidgeting. An anxious habit of hers, something she did all too often; tapping her fingers against her thigh, worrying at her lip, bouncing her leg. 

“You sweatin’?” Evan asked, leaning to nudge her with his shoulder. 

“Of course I’m sweating, we’re stuck in a mosquito-ridden, dixie-whistling shithole that’s always far too hot to be inhabitable,” Simone answered, her bitter words smoothed over with a casual tone. “And I need dresses that are more suitable for this weather.” 

“If you want I could take you into town,” Evan offered before he could help himself. “And you know I didn’t mean the weather.” 

Simone shrugged. “Maybe not sweating so much as gentle perspiration. We’ve been through a lot, is all.” 

“And we’ll continue to come out on top.”

“Your faith is reassuring,” She told him honestly. She stood up, brushing off her dress and looking around their camp with pursed lips. “Well, I better go make sure those chores are getting done the proper way. I’ll see you later, Mister Fong.” 

“See you, Miss Olivia,” Evan let her go by with a swish of her skirts. Once he finished his apple, he threw the core as hard as he could into the lake, and went off to find his lovers. 

He found Jonathan first; he’d been chopping firewood, shirt abandoned on the ground and union suit half unbuttoned. From the size of the pile of split wood, and the heavy sheen of sweat dotting Jonathan’s entire body, Evan would wager that he’s been at it for well over an hour. Possibly the entire morning. 

So he went and fetched some water, pressing it into Jonathan’s hand and taking the axe from him. 

Though upset at being stopped, Jon took the water with a nod. “Thanks,” He said curtly before downing the entire cup in a single moment. Then he tried to get back to work, but Evan stepped away. 

“What’s wrong?” Evan asked, gesturing with the axe to the wood. 

Jonathan pressed his mouth into a line. “Nothing,” He said, a single tone revealing so much more. 

“What’s wrong?” Evan asked again, emphasizing his words. 

When it was clear he wouldn’t let up, Jonathan sagged his shoulders. “I’m just worried.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s dumb.” 

“Jon.” 

“Those super agents,” Jonathan finally admitted, sounding as if the words were ripped from his chest. “Our damn bounties that are gaining attention from states over, that’s what I worried about!” He sat down on the grass, burying his hands into his hair. “I tried to talk to Tyler about it this morning, and all that idiot said was ‘We’re fine. We’re far enough away, they can’t find us.’” 

Evan sat down next to his lover and tried to find the right words to say. He’ll be the first to admit that he hadn’t even thought of all that since that day in Rhodes. He’d been too caught up in all this Gray-Braithewait nonsense to give even a passing thought to bounty hunters and super agents.

“And Ty said nothing?” He asked, just to be sure.

“Ty said nothing.” 

Evan placed his hand on Jon’s back, and immediately recoiled because he was extremely gross and sweaty. “Well, I guess until we know more, there’s no use in worrying, right?” 

His attempt at comfort fell quite flat. Jonathan stood up in a flourish, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Then let’s find out more! Let’s go talk to Smitty and John, find out what exactly they know and who exactly they talked to.” 

“Okay,” Evan relented, unwilling to put up much of a fight right now. “Just fucking bathe yourself first, you’re disgusting.” 

Jonathan rolled his eyes so hard they should’ve fallen out of his head. “Fine,  _ Ma _ .” 

Scotty decided that today was the day he would get his life together.

And by that, he means cleaning out his fucking satchel. He hadn’t done it since… shit, before Blackwater happened. 

Damn. It’d been  _ months _ since he properly took stock of what the hell he was carrying on him at all times. 

The first thing he pulled out was a pistol. A good one, too. His backup, one that has saved his life at least three times now. He put on the right side of the table, now designated the ‘keep’ side. 

The next thing he pulled out was an empty chewing tobacco container. He shook it, and nothing sounded. He put it on the left side of the table. He can’t remember why he has it, he doesn’t even chew tobacco. 

Next thing he pulled out was definitely a piece of gum that he had chewed and spat onto some paper. With a grimace, he put that on the left side. 

Hair pomade, a stick, some oatcakes, peppermints, candies, a knife, some rope, a random bone - hopefully an animal’s. Some trash, and finally his journal.

His journal that had a small stack of papers shoved into the middle. 

He pulled it out, and saw the photograph of Flaco Hernández in all his dead glory. Scotty hummed when he saw it; he’d forgotten all about that weird writer and his quest for gunslingers. Thumbing through the cards, he found one detailing a Black Belle. 

A lady dressed in black, widowed under mysterious circumstances four times, and apparently she was last seen pretty close to where they were camped out. 

With a new mission in mind, Scotty repacked his satchel and went to go find Chrissy.

“You’re getting really good with that bow,” Kelly complimented, hefting the deer carcass over the back of her mare. “Cleanest kill yet.” 

Brock smiled, fighting back the blush dotting his cheeks. “Thanks, I’m trying here.” 

“You’re succeeding,” Kelly corrected him. “Now let’s get these beauties back to camp.” 

They had ridden about an hour out from camp, part hunting trip and part excursion for some peace and quiet. 

Brock had settled in for the ride, but Kelly was just getting started.

“So, you and your wife have settled in pretty nicely,” Kelly observed, keeping her eyes on the road. 

“Yeah, we have,” Brock narrowed his eyes, not knowing what to expect from this. 

“She’s close to giving birth, right? Just a few months now, yeah?” 

“Three and a half, give or take.” 

“Are y’all ‘Ma and Pa’ type folks, or ‘Momma and Daddy’ type?” 

“Why’s it matter?” Brock couldn’t possibly imagine the importance of such a question. 

Kelly just shrugged like she wasn’t acting completely weirdly. “Just wondering what Brian’s gonna call the kid.” 

Brock froze, startling his horse that the mare whinnied under him. “What?”

Now Kelly turned to face him, grinning like she knew all his secrets. “Come on, it’s pretty obvious you and Lauren have a soft spot for that Irish bastard.” 

“So what if we do?” Brock didn’t mean to sound so defensive. 

“Just be patient with him,” Kelly said, voice so soft all of a sudden. “I’m sure it’s plain, but that idiot isn’t used to having people care about him the way you do. You should’ve seen him when he first took up with us, I swear, he was more raccoon than person.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yeah. Couldn’t believe someone would help him or Nogla without expecting something in return. Would snap at us, was always suspicious, that kinda thing. He eventually warmed up into the psychotic bastard we all know and love today, but it took him awhile to get there.” 

“So you… you’re not grossed out by it?” Brock had to ask. 

Kelly snorted. “I’ve had to deal with Evan and Jon and Tyler tip-toeing around each other for goddamn  _ years _ because they were afraid of what we would all think. And now, they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. You shouldn’t hesitate to tell Brian how you feel, because you deserve to be happy with him. And he deserves- what the hell?” Kelly’s attention was captured by a spot of bright red on the top of a hill.

Brock looked over, and was equally perplexed. On top of the hill was a clearing, which was occupied by several overturned caged wagons, and a woman in a bright red and blue dress sitting on top of one. 

“Should we try and help her?” Brock asked, watching as the woman moved in such a way that she was probably talking to herself. 

“I guess.” Kelly urged her horse off the path and to the clearing. 

“What the devil are you looking at?” The woman - who was in fact  _ not _ a woman, but a small man with a twirled mustache, asked them in a sharp tone. 

“I’m sorry?” Kelly drew her horse up just short of the first overturned wagon. 

“No, I’m sorry,” The… stranger melted, kicking their feet despondently. They gestured to the wreckage around them in big, sweeping motions. “I’m ruined! Ruined!” 

Brock dismounted and wandered in closer. “How so?” 

“It’s a disaster,” The stranger said. They pushed themself off the wagon. “Who wants to see a woman wrangle wild animals, who doesn’t have any bloody wild animals!” They pointed at one of the cages. Brock wandered over to it, and lifted up the door to just ensure nothing was in there. 

“Come to America, they said! Come to the land of opportunity, they said!” The stranger threw their arms up into the air. “Sod you, Daddy, I said. I’m going to America to make it on the stage! I don’t want to be in the army!” The stranger picked up a spare panel from the ground, and placed it on a wrecked wagon. It fell off a second after.

Kelly and Brock shared a look; both regretted coming over to the stranger in the first place. 

“I had an act!” The stranger continued on, gesturing wildly about themself. “The bravest woman in the world!” The stranger lifted their foot off the ground and spread their arms. “Animal wrangler!” They bowed, and pretended they were facing a wild animal in front of them. “Watch her tame wild beasts!”

“And you were the woman?” Kelly asked, just to be sure. 

“Of course I was the bloody woman, look at me!” The stranger gestured to their dirtied dress. “It’s the stage. Grease paint, tears. No one wants to see a  _ man _ wrangling wild animals, and no one wants to see a woman wrangling  _ nothing _ !” He took a breath, and tilted his head with renewed sadness. “May I borrow your gun? I wish to shoot myself. You see, I’m  _ buggered _ .” 

“Why?” Brock asked, finding himself liking this person just a bit. 

“My animals have escaped!” The man spat like he knew Brock hadn’t been listening. “And now I’m... buggered.” 

“What escaped?” Kelly crouched down in front of the overturned cage. 

“A priceless Ranjaniki tiger, from the slopes of the Hindu Heights!” The man gestured to the first cage. Then the next cage, “A fantastic, elusive zebra, from the plains of Ongo Bongo by the shores of the Limpopo,” The last cage, “And a magnificent lion, from the grasslands of the Tanganiki!” 

“Those are pretty hard to come by around here,” Brock observed. 

“I can see your problem,” Kelly added. 

The man huffed, and brought his hands together. “Please, friends, help a fellow out? I’m beyond desperate. If you see any of them, will you bring them back here?” 

“If we see a lion, or a tiger, or a zebra just… hanging around?” Brock didn’t try to keep the disbelief from his voice. 

“Yes! Though I believe the zebra is up near Larned Sod, distinctive creature that he is. I’ll make it worth your while!” 

Kelly looked to Brock, who shrugged. She turned to the man, and nodded. “Alright, madam. We’ll help you.” 

“It’s bloody Margaret, not madam! Margaret, Mistress of fucking Danger.”

“You really think they would hole up here?” Jonathan asked, eyeing the gathering of caravans around them. It almost looked like a small settlement, placed on top of a hill just outside of Rhodes. Each caravan looked worse than the last, wood rotting, shutters broken, windows shattered. 

“They do usually scam themselves into the best hotel in town, but this is where they said they were.” Evan dismounted from his horse, taking his shotgun with him just to be safe. “Bet it’s the one with the fire out front, come on.” 

If possible, the inside was even worse than the outside. Everything was overturned or broken or wrecked. 

“Someone got here first,” Jonathan muttered. 

Uneasiness began building in Evan’s gut. The tiny caravan - hardly two rooms, with an abysmal kitchen stuffed into the same space as a bed, was cramped beyond belief. He couldn’t imagine living here with another person. 

“Fresh food still untouched,” He said, gesturing to an abandoned sandwich sitting on the table. “Bed’s unmade-” 

“Ev,” Jonathan wandered back in from the second room, holding a bloodied rag in his hand. 

“A struggle,” Evan surmised. 

“But no body.” Jon jerked his head towards the back. “There’s tracks outside, let’s follow them.” 

Chrissy let out a groan as her horse abandoned the road and was immediately clopping through thick mud. “You didn’t tell me she was this far out in the damn swamp!” 

“You’d be out here too if you were the kinda gunslinger she was,” Scotty replied, keeping an eye out for alligators. He’d seen one earlier, and was immediately terrified. 

A hefty sigh was all he got, and they continued on. Eventually, through the muck and the mire, a shack on stilts appeared in the distance. 

“There, you happy?” Scotty asked, pointing to the measly structure. 

“I’ll be happy when we’re back in camp,” Chrissy told him. 

Brock would be the first to admit that he wasn’t trying too terribly hard to look for this zebra. He was more distracted by the area they were in. The grass was the greenest he’d ever seen, and the forests were beautiful. A breeze was blowing, making the temperature a bit more bearable. 

It was a lovely day. 

“That’s not a goddamn zebra.” Kelly’s voice brought him out his thoughts, and towards the lone animals grazing under the shade of a tree. 

Upon further inspection, it was indeed not the elusive zebra. 

“That’s a donkey,” Brock agreed. “A painted donkey.” 

Said donkey hardly stirred when they got closer, just continued eating the grass. The paint on it was horribly smudged, but it was still recognizable black and white stripes. 

“Wanna ride it back to that… lady?” Kelly asked him. “I don’t have my lasso with me.” 

“I guess.” Brock got off his horse and handed the reins to the huntress. As he approached the donkey, he held his hands up and smiled at it. “Your stripes better not rub off on my pants,” He warned the creature. 

The donkey just huffed at him. In a quick motion, Brock got up on the donkey - which it did not like at all - and urged it towards Margaret’s camp. 

The tracks led into a small clearing in the woods. Two men were there, by a burnt out campfire and a shitty tent. One sat on a tree stump and was carving some wood while the other was lying on a bedroll.

Evan brought his shotgun with him to greet the men, Jon ready with his knife close behind him. 

“Excuse us,” Evan began. “We’re looking for, well, uh - have you seen our friends?” 

The man carving paused. “I don’t think they’re here,” He said in far too creepy of a tone. 

“You haven’t seen two guys around here, strange fellers, attached at the hip? Complete each other’s sentences?” 

“One of them wears a lot of rings,” Jonathan added, crouching down to the ground to pick up something silver. “Like this one.” 

The two men stood up, getting ready to fight. 

“Where the hell are they?” Evan asked, leveling his shotgun at the first man. 

“You two better get the hell out of-” The second tried to shout, only to be cut off by Jonathan’s knife to his throat. 

Evan slammed the butt of his shotgun into the first man’s forehead, and he crumpled to the ground in a heap of pain. 

Jonathan stood over the man, pressing his boot to his neck and pressing down. “Where did you take them?” His tone was stiff, unrevealing of his previous anger. 

“I don’t know anything!” The man said, words struggling to escape from underneath Jon’s boot. 

Evan rolled his eyes, and kicked the man in the side. 

“Alright, alright, Christ,” The man spluttered against the pain, a coward if ever there was one. “They took them to a cabin over by the cornfields!” 

“Which cornfields?” Jonathan asked, putting more weight on his foot. 

“Left! Down the path there, by Braithewait Manor!” 

“See how easy that was?” Jonathan asked, giving the man a smile. “Thank you.” 

Evan turned around, ignoring the sound of a knife sliding across the man’s throat. He went to go search the other body, and was pleasantly surprised to find twenty bucks in the man’s pockets. Someone must be paying well for Smitty and John.

He could tell from the look on Jonathan’s face that they would ensure no one would be left to receive the money. 

There was a wooden bridge leading up to the shack on stilts. Clutter was everywhere, empty crates and barrels dotting the mushy ground around them. 

Scotty started making his way up to the front door. 

He stopped when it cracked open and the barrel of a gun pointed at him through it. 

“You there!” A woman’s voice, dripping in a southern drawl, called out. “You a bounty hunter?” 

“Not right now,” Chrissy answered, walking closer with her hands raised. 

“You Black Belle? We’re here to ask you about your Wild West days,” Scotty mentioned. 

“I don’t care much for reminiscing,” The woman said. The door opened a little wider, enough for her to walk through. Black Belle stood tall, draped in a black dress complete with matching hat and gloves. “You got friends that’re bounty hunters?” She asked, eyes narrowed and rifle raised square to Scotty’s chest. 

“None that spring to mind, ma’am,” Scotty said, swallowing as he stared down the barrel. 

“Well then you done led them here, and you none the wiser.” 

Scotty and Chrissy turned to look back the way they came, and saw a few riders rapidly approaching. 

“Oh, those bounty hunters,” Chrissy said plainly. 

“Knew my luck’d run out sooner or sooner,” Black Belle spat, lowering her rifle and watching the bounty hunters get closer. 

Chrissy stepped closer. “Get inside, we’ll tell them you’re gone.” 

Black Belle laughed. “Oh, no, no. I ain’t hiding from them scalp hunters, nor running from them neither. Now, fighting them? If it’s just me against them, that’d be a waste of time and nitro-glycerin.” 

Having no idea what the hell she was talking about, Chrissy just shrugged. “Well, let us know what we can do.” 

“You want that Wild West story, don’t yous?” 

“Yes, ma’am, we do,” Scotty said.

“Then get up here quick.” She stepped back, allowing the two of them to climb the steps up to the main platform. “And when I give you the word, one of you hit that,” She commanded, pointing to a plunger that was tied to the railing. “Whole place is wired.” She winked at the two outlaws, and went back to stand front and center. 

Chrissy smiled wide, and stepped behind the plunger. Scotty was briefly upset that he wouldn’t get to ignite it, then saw another one off to the side, facing west. He went and stood by it, getting his pistols ready as he did. 

“Black Belle?” The four bounty hunters stopped before the wood planks started, staying firmly planted just outside the range. “I got a contract here, for your life or your liberty! And we’d sooner it be liberty.” 

“Well, that seems mighty reasonable, mister!” Black Belle put on a jovial mask, and it was mighty convincing. “Come here, let me take a look at it!” 

The bounty hunter started walking closer, followed by only one other of his buddies. Black Belle kept encouraging him closer, her right hand slowly coming up. When they were close enough, she pointed her finger at the plunger, and Chrissy pressed it down. 

The two bounty hunters exploded, bits of them raining down onto their comrades. 

“There goes your contract!” Black Belle laughed, and Chrissy felt herself falling in love. A single glance at Scotty told her he felt the same. 

They were in the presence of a legend.

“You found him!” Margaret exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and hurrying over to the cage he’d managed to upright somehow. “Our dear zebra!” 

“Well, I guess you could call him that,” Brock said, getting off the donkey and immediately inspecting his pants. 

“Though he’s about as much a zebra as you are a lady animal wrangler.” Kelly chuckled as she saw bits of paint on Brock’s trousers.

“You two are really missing the whole point here,” Margaret told them, crouching down wildly and searching for… something. “It’s an illusion. A trick of the eye to bamboozle the senses, confound comprehension!” 

“Hoodwink your audience?” Brock corrected. 

“Hoodwink our audiences?” Margaret sounded offended at that. “Dear boy, don’t be so dreadfully literal.” He seemed to find what he was searching for, and hurried off to a plank of wood on the ground. “No one will pay for the truth!” he lectured as he picked up the plank. “They will only pay for deception.” He leaned it against his back, and dragged it over to the cage. “The allure of the stage, of dreams and realities!” 

Brock stepped back as the wrangler made a sweeping arc to bring the plank up to the cage. “What is the greater trick? Lassoing some poor beast on the plains of Mumbo Jumbo land and shipping it here so it can dance the polka?” He propped the plank up as a ramp, and let Kelly lead the donkey up onto it and into its cage. “Or turning, there in the glare of those arc lamps, something mundane into something extraordinary!” He gestured widely to the donkey. 

Brock wondered how much longer they would be helping this weirdo. 

“It’s the difference between prose and poetry. It’s alchemy! We’re selling dreams, my dears!” 

Just then, the donkey let out a spectacular fart and began shitting all over the floor. 

“As long as you don’t pay us in tickets to your show,” Kelly said. 

“Yes, well,” Margaret looked surprisingly abashed at that. “It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.” 

Brock coughed. “Speaking of our payment?” 

“Yes, yes,” Margaret traipsed over to the donkey. “I shall make this worth your while, but first… we’ll need the whole menagerie back. Then, we can think about that. My assistant’s gone for the tiger, and taken our remaining lion in case it could lend a paw.” 

“You had two lions?” Brock asked. 

“Yes, well right now I have none. They’re down there, on Caliga Way. Please, I hate to ask, but-” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” Kelly promised. 

Jonathan waited until they’re traveling by the cornfields, getting closer and closer to the cabin. “Think they talked?” He sounded apprehensive, like he hated to even think they would. 

“Of course they did,” Evan told him. “That’s all they do, is talk. I don’t think they said anything, though.” 

“Right.” 

They dismounted just before the cabin, if you could even call it that. More of a shack. 

And four men came out of the shack, a pair each carrying a very battered Smitty and John. 

“Put them down!” Jonathan commanded, leveling his pistol towards the closest man. 

Since these men were clearly not used to working as a group, the pair holding Smitty just dropped him and started sprinting into the cornfields. The pair holding John tried to take him with them, eventually dropping him at some point. 

Jonathan didn’t waste a second in going after those cowards while Evan went to Smitty. 

“You’re alive,” He said, mostly reassuring himself as he cut the rope around Smitty’s wrists. 

“Apparently,” Smitty said, trying to sit up and letting out a hiss. When Evan went to cut the rope on his ankles, he pushed the outlaw away. “Go get them, Ev, I can take care of this!” 

Evan left his knife and went running into the cornfields. He passed John who was also working on his ropes, and saw a flash of dark clothes running between the corn. 

When he saw Jonathan appear to his left, he took a shot at the person in the corn. His bullet hit home. 

One down, three to go.

A flutter of birds took flight down further in the field, and rustling was heard from the right. 

Evan followed the birds, Jonathan went for the rustling.

“They’re trying to flank us!” Black Belle rounded her house, shooting with wild abandon but never missing a shot. “Hit that plunger if you wanna see ‘em fly!” 

This was Scotty’s moment; he detonated the explosives, and sent a good four more bounty hunters fucking soaring. He laughed, and went after the rest with his pistol. 

“Lady, I can’t see much in need for our help at all!” Chrissy shouted over the ruckus, covering the front of the house with her rifle. 

“Sugar, that’s sweet. You’re lucky I’m all married out.” Black Belle stood tall and proud, obliterating those hunters as if they were nothing to her. 

Then a wagon pulled around the back, and in the wagon was more than just a bounty hunter. 

“A gatling gun?” Black Belle scoffed. “That’s the kind of gun you bring for an army, not for a widow!” 

Chrissy took out some dynamite from her satchel, and handed it to the gunslinger. 

Black Belle grinned at her, lit it with a match from her pocket, and let it fly. The gatling gun didn’t stand a chance. 

“There’s gonna be a hell of price on me when this is done,” Black Belle observed. 

“Price doesn’t matter when there’s idiots chasing you,” Scotty observed, watching a bounty hunter trip on a bit of leg. 

“At a certain point, you don’t get idiots!” 

At some point, there weren't any more hunters. They were all dead. Gator food now. 

“Whew!” Black Belle laughed, smile on her face as bright as the sun. “That all of them?”

“Yep, you got those scalp hunters off your back,” Chrissy said, watching the dust settle around them. 

“For now.” Black Belle didn’t waste a second; she set down her rifle, and went into her house. 

“Can you tell us about your Wild West days now?” Scotty waited out on the porch. “Running with Jim Boy Calloway?” 

Black Belle poked her head out of the house solely to give him a shocked look. “Little Boy Calloway? The only running he did was  _ away _ from a fight and that’s about the end of it.” She disappeared back into the house. 

Chrissy lit a cigarette, and saw the gunslinger’s hat on the ground. She retrieved it and brushed it off. 

“Well,” Scotty faltered. “The man’s apparently a famous gunslinger now.” 

“So they say. But don’t get what’s famous confused with what’s true.” There was a loud thump, and some more ruckus. “The ones of us that lived that life, we was too busy being scared for our scalps to talk to no newspaper writers or dime novel men.” She appeared from the house for a final time, large rucksack slung over her shoulder and rifle in hand. 

“Then what they like then?” Chrissy asked, following as Black Belle began walking the path from her house. “The days they all talk about.” 

“Same as now, I guess. Only longer ago.” 

“And can we get a picture, only if it isn’t a trouble.” 

“No, not a trouble at all.” Black Belle dropped her rucksack onto the ground, and whistled for her horse. “Can’t be any worse than those awful drawings on the wanted posters. 

Chrissy stepped forward, and offered the woman’s hat to her. 

Black Belle took it with a smile, and placed it firmly back where it belongs. She waited for Scotty to get the camera ready, and then posed spectacularly; rifle pointed to the sky, dress billowing in the wind, every bit of a severe and hardened gunslinger that she was. 

Scotty managed to keep his drooling in check long enough to take the picture. “Got it, he said, voice tight with admiration. 

“Then I’ll be on my way,” Black Belle told them. 

Chrissy went to help her with her rucksack, but Black Belle stepped in the way, chuckling as she grabbed it and slung it onto the back of her horse. 

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Belle,” Chrissy said. “You’ll be alright?” 

“I’ve been running for twenty years, sugar.” Black Bell patted her horse, and looked at the two outlaws. “Guess I’ll be running ‘til I drop. Just the way it is.” 

“Good luck,” Scotty wished her. 

“Luck’s for cowards,” Black Belle told them with a wink. Then she was off, riding away from a massacre of bounty hunters and leaving two outlaws to tell her story. 

“She’s amazing,” Chrissy said, watching as her form got smaller and smaller in the distance. 

“A fucking legend,” Scotty agreed. 

Margaret’s assistant was a woman. A nice lady with blonde hair and a chipper voice who was hiding out by another caged wagon. 

“You lost a tiger, ma’am?” Brock asked as they neared her. 

“You seen him?” The lady asked, getting too hopeful. 

“No, but we met your boss,” Kelly supplied. “Said you needed a hand.” 

“Well, he weren’t wrong.” The lady slumped against the wagon. “We lost our tiger, so I sent our best lion after her, and now… he’s missing too. It’s a right old predicament.” 

“Your lion from Timbuktu?” Kelly joked. 

“More like from Valentine,” The lady admitted. “He might be more of a dog than a lion, but in a certain light, a feller could never tell.” 

“Right,” Kelly sighed. “I’ll go look for your dog. Actually, Brock, you do it. See how your tracking is nowadays.” 

With a shrug, Brock went off to find the tracks. They were pretty easy to find, a set of pawprints in the mud stood out. He followed them into the woods, and then the prints were joined by much larger paw prints, and then by a trail of blood. 

The end of the trail almost made him throw up. 

“I found your dog!” he called out, fighting back the urge to gag. 

“Hey boy!” The lady came running up, only to stop short at the mess in front of her. “Where’s the rest of him?” 

There was only half of a dog’s body on the ground; the rest had been torn to shreds. 

“Looks like a cougar got him,” Kelly commented. 

“That’d be Stripey. And I always thought they got along.” 

Kelly whirled on her. “Your tiger is a wild cat?”

“Yeah?” 

“You still want it back?” 

“Yes, ma’am, she’s our star attraction.” 

Kelly picked up the dog carcass, and shoved it towards the lady. “Then let’s hope it wants the rest of it’s dinner.” 

Hiding behind a log while waiting for a cougar to eat the rest of a dog wasn’t how Kelly had imagined her day to go. But when she saw the cougar painted orange and black trotting up and jumping into the cage, she knew she had to put a stop to this. 

There was just one last bounty hunter to get, and they had fucking disappeared. 

“He dropped his gear, look around, he couldn’t have gone far!” Jonathan said, shoving Evan forward as he searched the corn. 

Evan had crept towards the edge of the field when a lasso found its way around his neck, yanking him to the ground and choking the life out of him. 

He scrabbled for purchase, fighting the arm that wound across his neck and mass of person behind him. 

“Let go of my friend.” Jonathan said, voice made of stone, anger tuning out the panic. 

“He ain’t your friend,” The hunter said smugly. “Let me give you some money.” 

“Piss off.”

The rope around Evan’s neck slackened, and he could  _ breathe _ . He took great big gulps of air, greedily trying to take it all for his deprived lungs. He shoved the body away, glancing at the knife that had embedded itself into the man’s eye. 

“Good shot,” He rasped as Jonathan crouched down beside him, steadying him against his heaving chest. “But you should've taken the money.” 

“I know, what a fool I am.” Jonathan went over to the body and searched it. 

Then more gunshots rang out, coming from the barn past the fields. 

“Can’t catch a damn break,” Evan grumbled, rising to his feet; he steadied himself, then took off towards the shots. 

Kelly turned to Margaret, ready to let loose. “You know, tarring and feathering a donkey is one thing,” She said, watching as the wrangler and his assistant inspected the cougar. “But playing dress-up with wild fucking animals is another.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Margaret turned to his assistant, whose name she told them on the way was Sally Nash. 

“Stripey ate Kind, Mister Margaret,” Sally told him. “I saw her do it.” 

“And I always thought they got along.” 

“She’s feral,” Kelly told them. “She doesn’t belong on the stage.” 

“Look, I’m well aware that we are not Royal Command Performance material - you were right, Daddy, goddamn you! - but a cow barn in Rhodes is hardly Drury bloody lane!” 

Bringing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, Kelly let out the deepest sigh she’s ever let out in her life. “Do you have any word on that runaway lion?” 

“Yes I have a word on the lion. Shit is the word! He was last seen near Emerald Ranch. As you can see,” Margaret gestured impatiently to where the cougar was licking her chops of dog blood. “We are very short on lions as of late. If you could, I’d be very grateful.” 

Kelly shook her head. “There’s only one kind of grateful I care about, pal,” She said, stalking off to where Brock stood with their horses. 

The three bounty hunters in the barn went down easy enough. After searching their bodies and coming away with damn near a hundred bucks in cash, Evan began to wonder just who the fuck these guys were. 

“How much trouble you think is gonna rain down on us for this?” he asked as he and Jon left the barn to go back to their two idiots. 

Jonathan could only shrug. “Let’s hope none.” 

Smitty and John were sitting on the porch of the cabin, leaning on each other and looking more than a little worse for wear.

“You alright?” Evan asked, signaling for Jonathan to bring their horses in closer. He went up to Smitty first, helping him stand up and then John. 

“Never finer,” Smitty answered for the both of them. 

“So who were they?” 

“Bounty hunters,” Smitty grunted as John swayed and almost toppled into him. “Attached to Cole Stoudemire.” His voice strained with every movement, and Evan couldn’t even begin to imagine the extent of his injuries. 

“What’d you tell them?” He slung John’s arm over his neck and walked him over to his horse. 

“Not much,” Smitty told them. “Said we were intellectuals, from Oregon. They didn’t believe us, beat the shit out of John for it.” 

John was hardly conscious enough for the ride, but he would have to make do. Jonathan set Smitty down to help. 

Evan got on his horse first, then helped Jonathan lift John in front of him, caging him in with his arms so he couldn’t fall. 

Then Jonathan lifted Smitty up onto the back of his own horse; Smitty wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s waist but his grip was frustratingly weak; Jonathan held onto the younger man’s wrists with one hand, and held the reins in the other. 

“You stirred up quite the hornet’s nest in Blackwater,” Smitty told them, voice much more strained after all the movement. 

“So we keep hearing,” Jonathan muttered. 

“It might be best if we stay with you for a little while. Can’t exactly go back to the caravan now.” 

Evan gave him what he hoped was a comforting smile. “That was the plan, don’t worry. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” 

Smitty huffed, watching with pure worry as John swayed dangerously in the saddle, even with Evan to steady him. “I’m sure Simone will have her work cut out for her with us. They weren’t exactly delicate.” 

“She’ll be fine, let’s just get you there,” Jonathan said. 

Brock and Kelly just had to follow the shouting to find the lion. Emerald Ranch was spread out, but in the middle of it all, two men were holding shut the doors to a barn, frantically speaking over each other. 

“Get away from here, there’s a cursed creature inside!” One of them yelled at the two outlaws. 

“It’s a dog,” Kelly told them. “Step aside and let us through.” 

“Didn’t look like no dog,” The other farmhand said, but they complied all the same. 

Brock and Kelly stepped into the barn, and looked around. Brock sneezed from the dust, and Kelly whistled for the dog. 

Then there was a creaking on the upper level, and the wooden boards covering the window were busted through. 

Screams erupted outside, but only for a moment. 

Kelly burst through the doors, and stopped short; one of the farmhands was dead on the ground, throat torn out and blood spreading into the ground. 

“You killed him!” The other was blubbering in the mud. 

Kelly and Brock shared a look. 

“Come on,” she grabbed Brock’s hand, and dragged him away from the scene. Whatever they were after left a trail; a dead cow was over by the edge of the fence, and blood covered the ground from there up to the stables. 

A mauled horse was on the ground, and Kelly got out her shotgun. Brock raised his pistol and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Kelly whistled, and something moved in the shadows of the stables. 

A lion slinked out into the light, mouth pulled into a snarl and tail swishing behind him. 

“Sweet mother of…” Kelly backed up, eyes wide and heart pounding. 

The lion reared up, and lunged. 

Brock emptied his clip into the poor creature, stopping it enough for Kelly to regain her senses and finish it off. 

“You got it!” A farmhand shouted, coming over with a relieved smile. 

Kelly clenched her jaw, and looked to Brock.

Brock sensed the anger rolling off the woman in waves, and figured that Margaret was not longed for this world. 

Kelly had hardly waited until her horse stopped to jump off and get in Margaret’s face. “You didn’t think to tell me that this time the animal was actually  _ real _ , you moron?” 

Margaret raised his hands up and took a step back. “I clearly stated we were looking for-” 

“You haven’t clearly stated shit this entire fucking time! Could’ve been a goose for all I know, but it was a man-eating lion!” 

“Well a goose would hardly get them to their feet at curtain call. Bring on the King of the Beasts, on the other hand, and they look - well, about as shocked as you do.” Margaret looked around her, and then around Brock. “What have you done with him, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Kelly scoffed and crossed her arms. “I had to kill him, you idiot. He was a feral lion let loose on a ranch. He never should’ve been taken from the wilds.” 

“Yes, well, that’s the act! Wild animals, tamed by a mere woman!” 

“Except he wasn’t fucking tamed.” Kelly stalked over to the cougar, and grinned when Sally also stepped away from her. “And neither is this damn cougar! So you know what’s gonna happen now?” 

“What?” Margaret asked, looking equal parts terrified and curious. 

“You’re going to pay us for the bullshit you put us through, and I’m going to take this  _ wild _ cat and put her back where she belongs. Any disagreements you have can be answered with a bullet.” 

Margaret went to fight back, went to start spouting some bullshit, but Kelly just cocked her pistol and aimed it right between his eyes. 

“Our payment,” Kelly said through gritted teeth. 

“Of course, and what a payment is,” Margaret said, trying to hold onto his theatrics despite being scared shitless. He pulled from his pockets the biggest emerald Kelly or Brock had ever seen. 

“From the mines of El Dorado,” Margaret told them, holding the gem up to the light of the sun. “As green as the rainforest and as dear as all the gold in the Andes.” He placed it into Kelly’s palm and then bowed. Then turned to his assistant. “Sally, give the nice people here the wagon with Stripey. Then we shall be on our way.” 

“We’re giving up our cougar? She’s our last star attraction!” 

“Paint the donkey into a bear, see how the people like that,” Kelly spat at her. 

As her face reddened, Sally climbed down from the cougar’s wagon and went to sit on the one with the donkey. Margaret joined her quickly, and the two of them left in a hurry. 

“Fucking idiots,” Kelly seethed as she holstered her pistol. She tossed the emerald to Brock, who barely managed to catch it. “I’m going to put this girl where she belongs,” She said, patting the bars of the cage. “There’s some woods north of here, up in New Hanover, where cougars roam. I’ll take her there then make my way back to camp. Should take about a week or so, I’m not sure.” 

“Want me to head back to camp, then?” Brock asked, hoping she would say yes. He didn’t really want to leave his wife for a full week. 

Thankfully, Kelly nodded. “Tell them all where I’m going and all that.” 

“Alright, see you then.” 


	19. some wee arson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan doesn't get to play cribbage, but he gets to burn some stuff down so who's the real winner here? Brian doesn't like it though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit starts to get real in this chapter, so be prepared for some aggressive and excessive italics here, folks.

It was well after dusk by the time Evan pulled his horse up to Braithewait Manor. He had been told to show up around sunset, but time had gotten away from him; Jonathan had demanded to be held for the better part of an hour and Evan was more than happy to comply. The job had to wait until dark anyways, so no harm done.

Night had settled over the land, a blanket of cool air and cicadas swarming the quiet. 

Evan hitched his horse next to his companion’s horses, and a servant was there to open the door for him, leaving Evan feeling off. 

He couldn’t help but to gawk at the mansion’s interior; it was neat and pristine, and his boots were tracking in clay and dirtying the floor. The walls were painted with images of the South, and everything was just so  _ opulent _ . 

Evan would honestly be okay with never coming back here. It was just too much for him. But he had to follow the servant further into the house; into a living room, surely one of many, where a fire was roaring and the furniture was occupied in a domestic scene that Evan wasn’t prepared for. 

Catherine Braithewait was seated in a deep red chair, with one of her sons next to her on a couch. Across from them sat Craig and Chrissy, and on the coffee table before them was a deck of cards and a wooden game board. 

“Ah, your friend, the other ‘liquor vendor’,” Catherine Braithewait said, her southern drawl looming over them all. “Hello.” 

“Hello, ma’am.” Evan fought the sudden urge to bow. “Nice to see you again.” 

“Apparently.” 

“Arthur Callahan, Ms. Catherine Braithewait,” Craig introduced them before waving Evan over. “Welcome, Arthur, we were just playing cribbage.” 

Evan tried his very best to not look like a puppy that had just been offered food.

Then Chrissy stood up, and his excitement at the prospect of cribbage with Catherine Braithewait was crushed underneath her boots. “We’ve been given a job.” 

“So these are the ones going to Caliga Hall?” Miss Braithewait did not sound impressed. 

“About that,” Craig said, turning to the matriarch. “One hates to be coarse, but there is the issue of money.” 

She chuckled, a wry sound as she picked up her hand of cards. “Oh, we’ve got money, Mister Minney.” 

“Paper? Bonds? Metal?” 

Miss Braithewait’s son scoffed. “She ain’t gonna pay you with a certified check, you yankee numbskull.”

Craig turned to Chrissy and Evan. “Isn’t the miracle of childbirth a wonderful thing? Seems a lady can birth a monkey after all.” 

Chrissy took that as her cue to get the hell out of there before Craig’s temper took a turn for the worse. She ushered Evan out back through the front door and, to his surprise, the wagon of moonshine. It had been filled back up with more jugs, with a cover put up over the top as well. 

“So how was  _ cribbage _ ,” Evan asked as he hopped up onto the bench. He took the reins as she clambered up next to him. “The cribbage I missed.” 

“Don’t give me that, we told you dusk!” Chrissy lightly punched his shoulder. “Show up on time and maybe you could’ve played with us. Wasn’t fun anyways. Cribbage is boring.” 

“Well thanks for spoiling that for me.” Evan took a deep breath and let go of his momentary jealously of fucking  _ cribbage _ with Catherine Braithewait. “So, what’s this job?” 

“She wants us to torch the Gray’s tobacco fields,” Chrissy told him with nonchalance appropriate for discussing the weather. 

_ “What?” _

“Since they haven’t had rain in weeks, should up go like that,” She snapped her fingers. “We’re to use the moonshine back there,” She jammed her thumb towards the back of the wagon. “Burns faster than kerosene. Said it’d be fitting, she did.”

“As long as we’re getting paid, I guess.” Evan tried his best to ignore the apprehension growing in his gut. Something about this entire situation just didn’t feel good to him, and his gut was only rarely, sometimes, usually often wrong. 

“So you don’t think this is a bit extreme?” Chrissy asked, words scored with hidden meanings. 

Evan could only shrug. “We’re playing the con like we were told to.” 

“What kind of con involves being laid-off factory workers that casually know how to burn down a plantation’s worth of tobacco fields?” 

“Craig knows what he’s doing.” Evan tried his best to sound reassuring, but he was pretty sure it failed. 

“For all our sakes, you better fuckin’ hope he does.” Chrissy let out a low sigh, and stretched out her legs in front of her. “I dunno, maybe I’m just blind or something but I just don’t see the pot of gold at the end of this southern hick-lined rainbow.” 

“These families are swimming in wealth.” 

“And we’re swimming in shit lookin’ for it.” 

“Easy,” Evan laid his hand on Chrissy’s shoulder, patting her lightly like he would a spooked horse. “Let’s just do this, okay? This one job, then we focus on the future.” 

Chrissy gave him a side-glare, but relented all the same. “Fine, fine.” She fell silent for a moment, stewing in her own thoughts. 

Evan was content to just let her do that for the entire ride, but he was still missing a few key facts about the job here. But just as he was about to ask her, she perked right back up with renewed anger on her face. 

“I mean, come on! Brian and them have destroyed the Braithewait’s stills, and then we tried selling their damn shine back to them only to give it away at the saloon, and they stole their horses too - and then, of course, after that whole business, Gray has doubled security around Rhodes and their house, and what have we got to show for it all?” 

“Speaking of the Grays,” Evan said loudly, shutting down that rant as quick as he could. “How are we getting this stuff onto the property?” 

“They got wagons going in and out all the damn time now,” Chrissy brushed him off. “Food, payroll, you name it. Especially now that they’ve taken on all the extra muscle. We’re just making a delivery, that’s all.” 

“Alright then.” A simple enough plan.

During the ride, Evan let his thoughts wander. He thought back to Valentine, how that went so horribly wrong. Worst of all, they hadn’t even gotten the chance to rob that bank. Not that there would be too much in it when they were there, a livestock town never had much at all, but still.

Then he thought of Rhodes, of his first impressions of it. Of how, of course, the first thing they have to do here is keep Smitty and John from being arrested-

“Oh shit,” Evan groaned, leaning forward to bury a hand into his hair.

His exclamation had startled Chrissy out of her own thoughts, and within a second she was sitting upright and looking around. “What, what the hell is wrong?” 

“The Grays know what I look like,” Evan told her. With a huff he handed the reins to her, and stood up. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Hiding with the shine?” Evan said like it was obvious. He rolled back the cover of the wagon, pushed a few crates out of his way, and settled on down. It was tight on space, and a bit awkward to force himself into a position where he couldn’t be seen, but once he pulled the cover back over himself, it looked as if nothing was out of place. 

“Guess I’m doing this on my own,” Chrissy muttered, scooching over so she was centered on the bench. 

“I’ll be here for moral support,” Evan told her. With the way he was, all he could see was from under the bench. He had a very nice view of the back of Chrissy’s ankles, and without a second thought, he reached over and pinched her. 

He jerked his hand back, just  _ barely _ avoiding the full force of her boot to his hand, and he cackled. 

“You’re a sonofabitch, you know that?” Chrissy hissed at him, huffing and puffing as she settled back down. “Jesus, don’t fucking do that again.” 

“I had to,” Evan managed to say between laughs. 

“No, you  _ didn’t _ .” 

“I promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Damn right you won’t, we’re here. Oh, watch this, I’ve had Brian teach me some tricks.” 

Before Evan could ask what the fuck he was supposed to be watching when he couldn’t see much of anything, a guard spoke up. 

“Hold it right there!” A deep voice yelled over at them. 

The wagon slowed to a stop, and the brim of a white hat appeared in Evan’s line of sight, along with the orange glow of a lantern. He crouched down a bit lower to avoid being seen, and almost let out a curse at how uncomfortable he was getting. 

“What do you want, miss?” 

“I’ve, I’ve - there was a thing, at the saloon.” Chrissy stuttered in an Irish accent. So that’s what Brian taught her. 

“What’re you on about?” The guard asked, sounding instantly suspicious.

“I-I’m delivering the supplies.” 

“You’re not the usual driver.” 

“You want a bottle, friend?” Chrissy stuck her hand down into the gap between the cover and the bench and waved it frantically in front of Evan’s face. 

To avoid catching a finger to his eye, Evan shoved a bottle of moonshine into her hand, and listened to her work her magic. He was impressed by her accent; he could almost believe she was a nervous Irish girl instead of a pissy outlaw. 

“Here, have a wee drop.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m new, I mean you no harm.” More laughs, the sound of a cork popping, moonshine sloshing. “I’ve come from Donegal, in Ireland.”

“Is that so?” The guard was sounding more jovial by the minute. 

“Yeah! They said you’d understand, some kind of incident at the saloon in town. I was told to bring the supplies here.” Chrissy began to scoot over on the bench, a small movement. “‘Ask no questions, I’ll tell you no lies,’ that sort of business.” 

“Well, ma’am,” The guard heaved himself up onto the bench, making himself comfortable a little too close to Chrissy for both hers and Evan’s comforts. “I’ll be sure to make sure there ain’t no bumps in the roads here. Right this way, I’ll show you where to go.” 

“Well thank you, friend,” Chrissy’s voice took on an edge, and Evan knew that this needed to end soon. “Chrissy.” 

The wagon started moving again, and more moonshine was sloshed around. 

“Hamish,” The guard said after taking a rather large sip. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

They rode for probably ten seconds before Chrissy started talking again. “Nice bit of land you got here. Not as nice as Connemara, but fine nonetheless.” 

Evan knew for a goddamn fact that Chrissy had no idea what Connemara looked like, but damn if she wasn’t playing her part well. 

“My people come from Scotland,” Hamish told her as he took another drink. 

“Then you and I are nearly family!” 

“Maybe not family. Maybe just two people destined to be united.” Hamish’s tone sank into something that was all kinds of uneasy to listen to. 

As Evan fought back the urge to throw up, he wondered if it would be worth it to stick his knife into the guard’s ankles. He had such a lovely opportunity for a quick jab. If he was lucky, he might even be able to sever the man’s foot entirely. 

“Well now,” Chrissy chuckled but it was drier than the land around them. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

Hamish eased back in his seat, almost toppling over the side but managing to save himself and the moonshine in his hand. “You’re right, you’re right. Go right at this here crossroads and just follow the road on down.” He took a drink and let out a groan. “It’s getting so I can’t even keep track of all these deliveries. What do you even have in there?” 

Chrissy laughed her nervous laugh. “Well when I saw they was askin’ for more drivers in town, I jumped at the chance. I’ve never been the kind to pass up some honest work.” 

“You ain’t married?” Hamish sounded appalled. 

Chrissy’s hands tightened on the reins so hard Evan imagined he could hear the leather squeaking. 

“No, not yet.” 

“Well, you should be out finding a husband, not driving a wagon around in the night. Honest work is honest work, but what’s more honest than taking care of your family?” 

“So you been having a rough time of it out here?” Chrissy asked, voice sharper than the blade of her knife. 

Evan could tell from here that this man wasn’t going to be seeing the next sunrise. 

“That’s puttin’ it lightly. Mr. Gray’s been having trouble with another family out here, a bunch of covetous lowdowns trying to sabotage his livelihood. Disgusting.” 

“Then it sounds like you deserve that drink.” 

“You don’t know the half of it. Pull up right in there.” 

A shadow passed over the wagon, and then it came to a stop inside some sort of supply shed.

Evan watched as the two of them disembarked, and waited for his moment. 

“You can unload her in here,” Hamish said. 

“In here? The horses like a swift one, eh?” Chrissy uncovered the back of the wagon, making eye contact with Evan. She reached up to scratch her jaw, then slid her thumb horizontally across her throat while jerking her head towards the guard. Then she was all smiles and pulling out a crate of shine. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing, nothing. It’s grand.”

“You sure you should be doing that? Aren’t those heavy?” 

Evan saw their shadows move towards the opening of keep, and made his move. He slid the cover off the rest of the wagon, and as quietly as he could, climbed out. 

Chrissy covered his noise by talking about Ireland some more, so Evan carefully dropped himself onto the ground. He landed weird, and almost face planted the straw-covered floor. 

He brushed himself off, and took out his knife. 

Hamish was only breathing for a second more before a knife was plunged down to the hilt into his neck. Evan let the body drop, grimacing as some blood splattered onto his hand when he took out his neck. 

“Stupid bastard,” Chrissy muttered. “You should’ve let me have that.” 

“You told me to kill him!” Evan protested. He grabbed the legs and pulled the body into the shed as Chrissy slid the wooden panels over the doorway. “So how we doing this?” 

“I’ve got it covered,” Chrissy announced with a smirk. She grabbed another crate off the wagon, and brought it over to a workbench. Setting it down with a flourish, she whipped off the cloth cover and brandished wildly to its contents. 

Evan couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him. 

Inside the crate were a dozen pint bottles of moonshine with strips of cloth stuck into the tops. 

“Oh, this place is gonna go up like a torch.” Evan grabbed four of the fire bottles and stuffed them into the pockets of his jacket. He went over to the door, slid it open just enough to peek out, and analyzed their situation. 

“Lot of guards,” He observed with a sneer. “We should do our best to not be seen.” 

“I can handle that, can you?” 

Evan ignored her for the moment as an idea popped into his head. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do.” He gestured for her, and then pointed over the large wooden structure that was centered in the fields. “You should take care of that barn.” 

“And you?” 

He went around to the wagon, and grabbed three full jugs of shine. “I’ll deal with the fields themselves.” He handed one of the jugs to Chrissy, and kept the others for himself.

“You just want to burn shit more, but alright. Douse everything first, then set it off with these babies.” Chrissy pat the bottles that were poking out from her own jacket. “And once we get started, there’s no turning back.” 

“Burn quietly,” Evan agreed. He slipped his bandanna up around his face, and nodded to Chrissy once she did the same. “Let’s head out back.” 

The second Evan stepped out of the shed, he knew that this was going to be more difficult than he originally thought. 

Another guard was standing hardly twenty feet from them, and a wagon was coming up the path. 

“Shit, get down!” Chrissy hissed, making her way to a small hut surrounded with wooden barrels. 

Just as Evan pressed his body behind him, the guard spoke up. 

“I thought the wagon already arrived?” The guard said in a whiny voice. 

“Well this one didn’t,” The wagon driver replied curtly. 

“Well, whaddya got there?” 

“Tools, payroll.” 

Chrissy’s eyebrow jerked up, and she glanced at Evan with an expectant look. Evan just shook his head at her. 

“Alright well, take that stuff up to the supply shed in the barn.” 

“You hear that?” Chrissy asked. “Payroll!” 

Evan withheld a sigh. “Let’s finish this job first, kay?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take care of this fool.” 

Evan followed closely as Chrissy left their cover and crept towards the guard. Within a single moment, she stabbed him with her knife and he was out for the count. 

“You go on, douse the fields,” She said, wiping her knife on the guard’s pants. “I’ll meet you at the barn.” 

Evan nodded, and plundered on. 

It didn’t take very long for Evan to hate everything about this job. 

Pouring moonshine from a jug, tiptoeing around rows and rows of wrinkled tobacco plants, trying to avoid being seen and  _ not _ being able to curse up a storm was very taxing on his patience. 

But he was going to do this properly. He didn’t get the opportunity for major bouts of arson very often, so this was going to be done  _ right _ . 

So each field got a healthy - well, unhealthy - dose of moonshine. Evan poured in rows, following the tobacco plants as best as he could. 

By the time he went through both jugs, he was tired and sweating, but he knew the burn would be well worth it. 

He sneaked his way to the barn, and was met with Chrissy sitting down, fucking  _ sitting down _ , next to a dead body. A horrible odor filled the air, managing to penetrate through Evan’s bandanna and making his nose wrinkle on instinct; blood and moonshine did not mix well. 

“Took your sweet time,” Chrissy muttered, standing up when he entered the barn. “Come on, let’s light this bitch.” 

Fire bottle in one hand, matches in the other. Evan stood up with a grin, and lit his bottle. 

He threw it as hard as could at the front of the barn, and it exploded  _ spectacularly _ across the face of the structure. Chrissy threw another into the interior, and it was alight within seconds. 

Without a word, the two outlaws turned to the fields. Evan took the right side while Chrissy took the left. 

Light the match, set the rag aflame, and throw. 

Three fire bottles from each of them, and an insane amount of joy. Fire consumed the dry fields, ravaging the crops until nothing was left but ash.

Of course, the blaze brought out the guards.

“We got company!” Chrissy shouted, ducking behind a stack of crates. 

“We didn’t think about how we’re getting out of here!” Evan took cover behind a shed, rifle out and upset that he didn’t get to fully enjoy the havoc they wrought. 

Chrissy took the head off a guard, and pointed behind Evan. “The horses from the stable!” 

Evan turned to look, and saw two horses hitched there. They were kicking and yanking on their reins, startled by all the noise. 

He shot a guard that was close to them, and in their fear, the horses broke free. He watched as they sprinted away and let out a groan.

“Now what?” He asked, turning back to the assault in front of them. 

Chrissy was silent for a moment, taking potshots at some guard that had taken cover. “The wagon that had come in here, we can nick those horses!” 

“Where the hell was that?” Evan shot a man through the heart before he could get too much closer to Chrissy. 

“Back here, come on!” Chrissy started sprinting away, leaving Evan to chase after her. 

They followed the path until it led to a crossroads, and when Chrissy turned right, Evan paused. 

They sure had created a sight; the path wove in between the two fields that were now blazing; smoke rose from them in billows, blocking out everything else from sight. 

It looked like a road straight to Hell, and Chrissy was sprinting down the middle of it with her pistols raised. 

Evan felt himself smile as he ran after her. 

He fired at any moving shapes he saw, and took cover behind a barrel. He looked behind them, and saw more guards assembling in the distance. 

“They didn’t tell you there’d be an army?” He shouted, pausing to reload. 

“They didn’t tell me jack shit!” Chrissy answered him, whooping as she shot a guard straight through the forehead. “Come on, I see the wagon!” 

It was located towards the far corner of the field, and the horses were thankfully still there. They were jittery and the driver was nowhere to be seen. 

“Maybe they haven’t unloaded it yet.” Chrissy went for the back of the wagon while Evan went to cut the horses free.

“Hurry up!” Evan was beyond grateful that the horses didn’t run as soon as their harnesses were cut.

“Oh, we did good, Ev!” 

“Well get moving so we can enjoy it!” Evan mounted his horse, and waited impatiently. 

Chrissy made it to the front of the wagon, and jumped onto the other horse. She landed with a grunt, and then they were off. 

“Follow me,” She said, urging her horse on. “We’re leaving right through the front fucking gates!” 

Which meant they had to ride back through the fields that were very much on fire, and then back through the rest of the guards - shooting them as they went, of course - and then out the front of the property. 

Evan turned to look behind him, watching as the fields bathed in glorious red faded into nothing. 

“That turned into a right party!” He told Chrissy, fingers itching to set more things on fire. 

“That Braithewait hag sure got her money’s worth,” Chrissy agreed, wiping her forehead onto her sleeve. “Now to hope that this doesn’t blow up in our fucking faces later.” 

“Are you coming to bed?” Lauren’s voice was soft, so as to not disturb the others around them. 

“Not right now,” Brian answered for the third time. 

He was waiting on a tree stump, his leg bouncing so fast it was almost reduced to a blur. Lauren sighed, and placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. 

“Do you wanna at least talk about whatever’s botherin’ you?” She asked. 

“I just need to confirm something,” was Brian’s vague reply. 

“Are you sure-” 

“Yes,” Brian snapped. “Go to bed, Lauren.” 

His harsh tone did nothing but worry her more; he never spoke to her like that. Not wanting to exacerbate his frustration, Lauren did as she was told, and returned to her husband. 

Brain sighed. He didn’t want to talk to her like that, but she didn’t need to be a part of this.

He stood up when two riders approached, both of them grinning and covered in ash. 

“What the fuck were you two doing?” He asked, trying his best to keep his tone steady. 

Evan raised his eyebrows; they had gotten back around 2 in the morning, was Brian waiting for them the entire time? 

“Who are you, our Ma?” Chrissy joked, dismounting with a flourish, still riding the high from a job well done. 

Brian’s glare leveled at her. “Just tell me. What were you out doin’?” 

“Burning down the Braithewait’s fields.” Evan had barely gotten the words out of his mouth before Brian turned on his heel, stalking away from them and towards the object of his rage. 

He wove around the tents, heading straight for Craig’s tent. The bastard was asleep, so Brian yanked him up by the neck and dragged him outside. 

“Let me go, what the-” Craig struggled, kicking his legs and grabbing Brian’s arms, but his grogginess left him with unsteady movements. 

Brian dragged him out of camp and to the beach, and threw him onto the sand. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Craig spat, pushing himself up and into Brian’s space. 

“My problem?” Brian met Craig’s glare head on, unafraid of him. “What the fuck is your problem? We’re meant to be lying low!” 

Craig’s brow pinched together. “What the fuck is this about?”

“You sending our resident arsonists to burn the Gray’s fields. I mean, fuckin’ really? You wanna just start telling everyone we’re camped out right here too?” 

Craig clenched his hands into fists. “I’m doing what we were told to do,” He seethed. 

“You painted a giant fuckin’ target on our backs, you stupid sonofabitch! What the fuck were you thinking? Lighting up the entire plantation when we’re meant to be swindling these hicks!” Brian’s volume was rising with his temper, and he was itching for a fight. 

“At least I’ve been doing fucking  _ anything _ , you self-righteous bastard!” Craig didn’t bother keeping his voice down at this point, face going red as his blood began to boil. “While you’ve been twiddling your fucking thumbs this entire time, I’ve been  _ taking _ the fucking initiative to get shit done!” 

“You better be jokin’, or you’re even more of an inbred cunt than I originally thought. This was the stupidest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever done, and that’s goddamn sayin’ something!” 

Craig straightened his back. “I’m doing our damn jobs, I’m getting us closer to the fucking gold, what the hell do you want from me?” 

“You painted a target on  _ all of our fucking heads! _ ” Brian shouted, bringing his hands up to shove at Craig’s shoulders. 

“Don’t you touch me, you Irish prick!” Craig shoved back, and that lit the fuse. 

Tyler was first woken by the sounds of a light scuffle happening outside his tent. He wanted to go investigate, but Evan and Jonathan had him pinned to the bed pretty good underneath their combined weights. 

Once the sounds faded, and then grew louder, he knew he should do something. 

With all the grace of a damn elk, he extricated himself from his lovers, and left the warmth of his tent for the still-warm and humid southern air. 

Then he saw Brian deck Craig right in the face, and Craig brought out a flash of silver, and he broke into a run. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tyler yanked Brian off Craig, sending him spiraling into the sand with the force of it.

“This dumb cunt is gonna get us all killed!” Brian spat, scrabbling back up and launching himself at the Englishman. 

Tyler shoved his arm into Brian’s throat while doing his best to keep the other on Craig’s shoulder, to keep the knife out of the equation. “Fucking quit it!” He pushed again, sending each man in a separate direction. 

“Tell this asshole that we have a damn job to do and I was just doing that job!” Craig seethed. His eyes wandered to the knife in his hand, as if he forgot he was even holding it, and something glinted in his eyes. Without a second thought, he threw the knife, and laughed when it embedded itself in Brian’s shoulder. 

“Fucking christ!” Brian’s hand went to his shoulder, gripping around the knife and eyes wide with shock. Then his shock renewed his rage, and he damn near went  _ feral _ trying to rip out Craig’s throat. 

Then Brock and Lauren were coming up behind him, and Anthony behind Craig, because  _ of course _ they woke up the entire camp. 

Brian kept fighting against the Barrus’, but not enough to hurt them. Brock’s hands were on his shoulders, with Lauren wrapping herself around his arm to keep him from retaliating any further.

Anthony stepped in front of Craig, bracing himself against the crazed outlaw. 

Tyler stood in the middle, arms raised to deflect another attack.

“Are you both fucking good?” He demanded, glancing in between the both of them. 

“He fuckin’  _ stabbed _ me-” 

“This prick doesn’t know the hell he’s going on about-” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Jonathan shrieked, appearing with Evan by his side. “What the hell are you two doing?” 

Craig scoffed, breaking free of Anthony and stepping away. “I’m going for a ride,” He said, bringing one hand up to his bloodied nose and walking towards the horses. 

“Like hell you are, it’s too dark!” Anthony went after him. 

“Run away, you fucking coward!” Brian called after him. 

Lauren shook his uninjured arm and gave him a very pointed look. “Come with us, you big oaf.” She began leading him back to her tent. She could feel his anger still there, brewing a storm in his chest.

“He’s going to get us all fuckin’ killed, I hope you know that!” Brian yelled back to Tyler before he was pushed into the tent. 

Lauren immediately plopped him down in the chair by the table. “Stay here, I’m going to get some supplies from Simone.” 

“Don’t wake her,” Brian tried to say. 

“She’s already awake, honey. The entire camp is.” Lauren left, and Brock came in after. 

Brian left his gaze on the ground; his shoulder started throbbing more and more as his adrenaline faded, and he fought the urge to rub at it. “Fucker stabbed me,” He muttered, mostly to himself. Mostly out of disbelief. 

Craig fucking stabbed him. God, what Brian wouldn’t give to be able to shoot the motherfucker between his eyes. It’d be too swift a death for him, but goddamn would it be satisfying. 

It only occurred to him after he pictured Craig’s dead body being eaten by alligators that Brock was saying something to him. 

“Pardon?” Brian asked, blinking as Lauren returned with a small metal tin and a lit lantern.

“We need to get to your wound,” Brock repeated himself. He stood from where he had sat on the cot, and helped Brian out of his shirt. Brock let out a small “oh, my Hell,” when he saw the wound. 

Brian took a look as best as he could, and shrugged with a wince. “I’ve had worse,” He said, though it was little consolation. 

Lauren set herself to work as her husband pressed a bottle of whiskey into his hands. 

“What was that all about, sweetheart?” Lauren asked, her voice smoothed over as if she were talking to a spooked dog. “It’s not like you to just… lose it like that.” 

“Bastard’s gonna get us killed,” Brian said again. It was all he could say about it. “Might as well have gone straight to the Pinkertons themselves and said ‘hey, we’re right the fuck here, go ahead and kill us all’.” 

Brock and Lauren shared a look. 

“What did Craig do?” Brock asked quietly. 

Brian snorted. “Burned down the Gray’s tobacco fields. When we’re supposed to be lyin’ low, he’s literally sending up fuckin’ smoke signals as far as the eye can see.” 

“There’s no way they can trace that back to us-” 

“Who the hell else would do something so  _ moronic _ ?” Brian interjected, sitting up with fire in his eyes. “Craig’s the only one stupid enough to do it, and  _ they know that _ .” He sat back with a huff, ignoring the look he was getting from Lauren. “I mean, seriously, when his mother was pregnant with him, did she just forget to give him a fuckin’ brain?” 

Now Lauren’s anger was rising. “That’s not funny.” 

“Sorry,” Brian said, and he meant it. “It’s just… this was too far.”

“He has a point,” Jonathan said as he and his lovers returned to their tent. 

Evan looked at him. “Which one?” 

“Brian. I mean, did you even think about what you were truly doing?” Jon’s tone was more accusatory than it needed to be. He didn’t even give Evan a chance to answer before he whirled on Tyler, who looked like all he wanted to do was rest. “Do we even know for sure that this gold even exists?”

Tyler glanced at Evan, but he couldn’t help. “Jon, darling, these families are filthy rich-” 

“If they’re so damn rich then why haven’t we  _ seen _ any of it!” Jonathan shouted, then closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and did his best to reel in his own temper. There had been enough arguing that night, he was tired. “I’m going to go stay with Ohm tonight,” He said softly. 

“Wait-” 

“This will end soon,” Tyler said, tone almost pleading. 

Jonathan scoffed. “You’re damn right it will.” He shoved the tent flap out of his way, and stalked across camp to Ohm’s tent.

Evan could only stare after him. 

With a bone-deep sigh, Tyler sat down on the cot. Evan joined him after a moment, and the two outlaws laid down. 

Evan didn’t say anything when Tyler held him tighter than normal. He waited for them to settle, and then whispered, “I’m sorry for all this.”   
Tyler just shushed him, bringing a hand up to card his fingers through Evan’s hair. “It’s not your fault, love. Just try and sleep.” 

That night, Evan dreamt of a village burning down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is not recommended that you stab someone during an argument. Don't be like Craig, kiddos.


	20. trying to turn the tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better way to avoid the Pinkertons' attention than to rob a bank?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> incoming: angst
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

Ohm was awoken by a tiny tongue lapping at his cheek. It startled him at first, and he pulled his fist back to punch whatever it was in front of him, but when he cracked his eyes open and saw it was just his pup, he relaxed. 

“You’re too cute,” He murmured, petting Tiny behind his ears just how he liked. 

Ohm was still getting used to having a dog; he’d never had one before, but how hard could it be? Tiny was… well, small. He didn’t eat too much, and he stuck around the camp without wandering too far. He only occasionally chewed on things he shouldn’t. He was a very good pup, and Ohm would die for him. Or kill for him.

So when a sound emitted from somewhere in his tent that definitely wasn’t himself or the dog, Ohm scooped the pup up and leveled his pistol at the offender. 

Then a mop of black hair peeked out from the bedroll, and blue eyes blinked at him groggily. 

“Oh, good morning, Jonny.” Ohm chuckled to himself at his ridiculousness, but Jonathan didn’t even blink at having a pistol in his face first thing in the morning. “How ya feelin’?” 

“I’m not sure.” His tone was pensive, but his eyes were downcast. 

“Feelin’ better than last night?” Ohm tried. He urged Tiny over to his brother, hoping the small pup would help him. 

It seemed to work, if only a minuscule bit. Jonny’s hand lifted to pet Tiny, and the barest of smiles cracked as the pup licked his hand with far too much energy for the earling morning. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and just as Ohm is about the go get some coffee for them, Jonathan said, “Thanks for letting me sleep here. I didn’t wanna… deal with that.” He gestured to the open tent flap that revealed most of the camp.

Through it, Ohm could see that Evan and Tyler were awake, standing on the beach with cups of coffee and discussing something. 

Ohm looked back to his brother and watched as a thousand different emotions flitted across Jon’s face. Not many of them were positive. He could tell when Jonathan was stressed, and when he was stressed, he got frustrated, and when he got frustrated, he took it out on other people. 

He racked his brain for ways to help, and came up pretty empty. 

“I don’t feel safe here,” Jonathan admitted in a whisper. As if saying those words too loudly would bring the Pinkertons right to their door. Well, their trees.

Ohm scooted closer, and brought Jonathan in for a tight hug. The way the younger man clung onto him with enough strength to push the air from his lungs a little told him all he needed to know. 

“I was putting off heading to Strawberry for a while now, but I reckon this the perfect time for it,” Ohm told his brother, patting his back before letting him go. “Wanna come with me?” 

“After Brian and Craig decimated that town, you better have a damn good reason for going back.” 

“See if Luke corresponded yet. I posted letters in every town I could get to.” 

Jonathan’s gaze dropped to the ground, and Ohm wondered if that was the worst idea he ever had. False hope about their brother was the last thing they needed. 

But then Jonathan accepted, and they had their plan.

Marcel rode back into camp elated and covered in mud. Like head to toe, just saturated with muck. And it was just his luck that Simone was the first one he saw. 

Disgust was written clear in her furrowed brows and heavy scowl. She looked him over, and sighed. 

“You’re lucky I was planning on doing laundry today, mister. Go bathe and give me your clothes when you’re done.” 

Marcel held his hands up, stopping in her way towards the lake. “Wait, wait, you’re gonna wanna hear this.” 

“Hear what?” 

He offered her his hand, and when she refused to take it, he couldn’t be offended. Not when he saw the red gloves she was wearing. The ones he had gotten her from Valentine.

He just gestured for her to follow, and led her over to one of their wagons that was currently unused. Simone sat down on the back of it while Marcel remained standing. 

“You wanna get out of camp for a bit? You’ve been stuck here for weeks now.” 

Simone raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” 

Marcel’s eyes widened. “No, no, no! I would never- I mean, n-not unless you would want, nevermind, I’ll stop-” 

“Honey, take a deep breath, use your words.” 

Doing as he was told, Marcel took a moment to straighten himself out. “The bank in Valentine,” He said simply. 

“What about it?” 

“Needs robbin’, don’t it?” 

Simone grinned despite herself. “You really wanna revisit Valentine?” 

“I really do. Come on,” Marcel dropped to his knees, giving her his best smile. “It’ll be easy, it’ll be fun, it’ll be just like the old days.” 

Simone pretended to ponder her options, even though she had already made up her mind. Just as she was about to give her answer, Lanai came trotting up to her. 

“I thought we were doin’ laundry, what happened?” She asked upon seeing no bundle of clothes that were meant to be washed. She turned her gaze to Marcel and wrinkled her nose. “What’d you fall in?” 

“Mud, my horse got startled by a snake,” Marcel explained quickly. “That doesn’t matter. Lanai, how would you like to rob a bank with us?” 

“So sure I’m in?” Simone asked slyly. 

Lanai shrugged. “Beats doin’ laundry, so sure.” 

Marcel turned to Simone expectantly, and wasn’t disappointed. 

Brian knew what the rest of the camp was doing. He wasn’t blind. 

He could see from the second he woke up how Brock followed him like a shadow. How Anthony did the same for Craig. 

How the two of them were never allowed in a three meter radius of each other. Not that he had a fucking problem with it. His shoulder throbbed every time he caught sight or even heard that cunt. 

He was over it. He was over goddamn everything.

He tried to read a book, but his mind kept wandering. It didn’t help when he saw Marcel, Lanai, and Simone all colluding at the edge of camp.

What he wouldn’t give to leave camp. But that would mean causing a fuss over where he would go, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

So he settled further into his spot under a tree, and did his best to focus on the book in his lap.

Evan had been cleaning his guns - a chore long overdue, and only completed with incessant nagging from Tyler - when Marcel called him over to the other side of camp, to where he, Simone, and Lanai were hanging around one of their wagons.

He couldn’t say his interest wasn’t piqued; he hadn’t seen Simone grinning so conspiratorially like that in a long ass time. 

“We got something cookin’,” Marcel announced as Evan neared. “I’ve been workin’ on it since Horseshoe, but then  _ someone _ went and kicked up all that shit at Valentine.” He very pointedly did not look at Evan, but there was no one else he could’ve been talking about. 

“That wasn’t my fault,” Evan defended. “It was just one of those things.” 

Lanai scoffed at that. “Nogla fucked up some dynamite once, and got endlessly ribbed for it. You shoot up a whole town, and ‘it’s just one of those things’.” 

“That’s what happens when you fuck the boss,” Marcel supplied, not without a grin. 

Evan glared at all of them, but it quickly dissolved into a smile and a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess that does have perks. Great sex not included.” 

“Gross.” 

“Disgusting.” 

“We did not need to know that, honey,” Simone told him gently. “Anyways, we’re planning on hitting the bank there. You in?” 

“You sure now is the time for that?” Evan couldn’t help but to ask. He looked to where Jonathan and Ohm were saddling their horses and felt his heart twinge a bit.

Marcel grinned. “There’s no better time! We make some noise up around Valentine, get the attention there instead of solely here. Thin ‘em out, so to speak.” 

“Is the take good?” Evan asked. 

“It has to be,” Simone answered him. “It’s the end of the season, so plenty of money, and plenty of people milling about. Four strangers won’t raise no concern.” 

“But there needs to be four of us,” Marcel stressed. “It’ll be easy, there’ll be law if we linger too long but-” 

Evan snorted. “Anythin’ serious?” 

“Of course not, just local boys rounded up and pressed into action. We can handle that shit no problem.” Marcel looked at the group, something close to hope in his eyes and excitement in his grin. “Y’all in?” 

Evan looked to Tyler’s tent. “I should probably ask-”

“Are you a bitch or a man?” Marcel interjected. “Come on, hit the goddamn bank with us.” 

Evan bristled. “You know what? Fine. Let’s do it.” 

Simone pushed herself off the wagon and brushed off her dress. “Change into nicer clothes, all of you. We need to look like we have the kinda money we’re gonna be takin’.” 

Jonathan tried not to think anything of it when he saw Evan congregating with three others at the edge of camp. He just continued to groom his horse, something he’d overlooked for far too long now. 

He tried to think nothing of it when he saw Evan duck into their tent with a gleeful look. However, he couldn’t ignore when Evan emerged dressed in nicer clothes with a long black jacket hiding the satchel he used for robberies where the take would be too much for simple pockets. 

He left his horse to go stand by Evan’s mare, intercepting the man when he approached. 

“What’cha up to?” Jonathan asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant. 

Evan’s smile faded into something more casual. He reached for Jon’s hand, and Jon surprised himself by letting him take it. Evan kissed his knuckles, and Jon’s cheeks flushed. 

“Robbing a bank,” Evan told him honestly, scooting around his lover to mount his horse. 

“Really?” Jonathan didn’t try to keep the disappointment from his voice. 

Evan leaned down, wanting a kiss but figuring he wouldn’t get one. “I promise you, love, this is a good move. We’re gonna come back with a huge score, and we’ll get the heat off our backs here.” 

Jonathan stood there, glancing from his lover to the group of outlaws waiting for him to join them so they could be off. He could do a lot of different things. He could try and prevent Evan from going, knowing that it would only cause the rift between them to grow. He could go along with him, make the odds better in their case but he knew he might lose his cool with how his mood was as of late. 

In the end, he took a deep breath, counted to ten, and pressed a chaste kiss to Evan’s cheek. 

“Just come back to me,” He murmured, resting a hand on Evan’s knee. “Or there’ll be hell to pay.” 

Evan’s smile grew more reverent, and he nodded. “Promise, I will.” 

Ohm knew not to question why Jonathan suddenly wanted to wait until tomorrow to leave for Strawberry. He just saw the four outlaws heading out, Evan among them, and figured his brother would worry his head off until Evan was safe back in camp. 

He put some water to boil for tea, and settled in for a long day with his anxious brother. 

It started raining when they pulled up to Valentine, but it couldn’t put a damper on the group’s spirits. The anticipation of a good job was piling high, and everyone’s fingers were itching to feel the stolen bills. 

“Keep it calm, and follow me, boys,” Simone said as they hitched their horses at the edge of the pitiful town.

The four outlaws shuffled along behind her; Evan grinned as he imagined that Simone was some sort of rich socialite and they were her bodyguards. A funny scenario, considering that sort of life was fit for none of them. 

When they got closer, Simone ushered them all into an alley. “We never decided my routine.”

“You do play the whole ‘lost little girl’ thing like no one else,” Lanai offered, wrinkling her nose as she did her best to avoid a rather squishy patch of mud. 

Simone grinned, then it was gone in an instant. She began sniffling, tears filled her eyes, her lip started quivering. “You break my heart, Lanai,” She said, voice heavy with feigned emotion. “You really do.” 

The outlaws chuckled, and Simone left them to go enter the bank first. 

“Good luck, boys,” Lanai said before heading up the platform to the bank.

“We got this,” Marcel agreed.

They crowded the doors to the bank to prevent anyone else from entering, with Evan, Lanai and Marcel on the other. Evan brought a hand to his bandanna, ready to raise it the second things got going. 

“Ma’am, I think you’re in the wrong place-”   
“Oh, but I’m ruined!” Simone’s crying rang through the walls of the bank, and the outlaws grinned at her theatrics. “H-He left me, and I don’t know what to do!” 

“When we goin’ in?” Lanai hissed, damn near bouncing on her feet from anticipation.

“Wait,” Marcel stressed. 

“He said he’d make a lady out of me!” Simone wailed, loud enough that the people across the street surely heard her. “I don’t wanna go back to the workhouse, I couldn’t, not with my child!” A fresh round of sobbing echoed out, but stopped in a single moment. “Get your goddamn hands off me!” 

Marcel and Evan busted through the doors, leveling their guns at patrons and the bank teller alike. 

“Everyone, shut the hell up, this is a robbery!” Marcel announced, shotgun firm in his grasp. “Simone, cover the doors. Lanai and Evan, get the vault open!” 

He began corralling customers down to the ground - some not without a harsh beating to remind them of what was at stake - while Simone began lowering the curtains on the windows. 

Evan kicked open the gate that kept the bank teller separate from the customers, grabbed the bank teller by the neck, and shoved him through the door that led to the back room with the vault. The man tumbled over the desk and fell to the floor. 

“Open the damn door and maybe you’ll get to live,” Lanai threatened the posh man, all goofy pretenses abandoned in favor of the job. 

Then the trembling man was taking too damn long. Evan whipped him with his pistol and told him, “Open the goddamn door, you sonofabitch!” 

“How we lookin’?” Marcel called out from the front of the bank. 

“It’s going real fuckin’ slow,” Lanai told him, raising his pistol and resting the barrel against the bank teller’s temple. 

When he finally got the stupid door open, Lanai shoved the bank teller into the room hard enough for him to bounce off the safes and fall to the floor. 

“Open the safes!” She commanded, kicking the bank teller not so lightly. 

“I - th-the the manager does that,” The bank teller sobbed out. 

With a curse, Lanai slammed the butt of her gun into the man’s head, knocking him out for good. “Guess we’re doin’ it ourselves.” 

Evan paid no mind to the unconscious teller as he crossed the small room. There were four safes installed in the wall, and he could practically hear the money calling out to him from within. 

“Dynamite or crack ‘em?” Lanai asked, bringing in the real questions. 

Every bone in Evan’s body was screaming for the dynamite, but then he remembered his promise to Jonathan and deflated. “Crack ‘em, it’s quieter and we need every goddamn cent we can get.” 

“Whatever you boys are you doin’, you better hurry up!” Simone called out. 

“You take the right, I’ll go left,” Evan pushed Lanai over to her side of the room, and took to the leftmost safe. He pressed his ear to the cold metal door, and began turning the lock. 

Turned the dial clockwise, heard a click. 

“I hear people comin’,” Simone said. 

“Me too, you guys need to hurry this along!” Marcel told them, rather unhelpfully.

Turned counterclockwise, heard a click.

Ignored Lanai cursing up a storm around her safe.

Turned clockwise, one more click.

Evan swung the safe door open, and almost jumped in glee. A heavy stack of bills sat there, all ripe for the taking. He shoved them into his satchel and moved onto the next safe. 

“How’s the take lookin’?” Marcel asked, inching closer to the vault to get a look at their score. 

“Good,” Evan replied tightly. 

Turn, click.

Simone getting fed up and entering the vault to check up on them. Saw Lanai fumbling, and not so gently removed her. “I’ve seen rats better at this than you!” She snapped, shoving her to the front with Marcel. “Stand there and look mean!” 

Turn, click. 

Simone getting to work on the safe herself, a soft click from her end. 

Turn, click. 

Evan opening the safe and shoveling bills into his satchel, grinning at the weight of it all. Letting Simone take the third safe as he made his way to the front of the bank. 

“Get a move on, woman!” Marcel called out, peeking out from the curtains. Lanai smacked him away from them. 

Simone emerged from the vault, her satchel filled with bills and her grin shining brighter than the sun. “Let’s go, y’all.” She handed the satchel off to Lanai, and led the way out of the bank. 

“All of you count to a hundred and keep your goddamn mouths shut, you hear me?” Lanai made sure she was the last one out of the bank, giving all the customers one last sweepover with her rifle. 

Then they were out, and walking down the muddied streets of Valentine. They were one shop down from their horses when they heard someone shouting from the bank. 

“Fuck, fuck, move!” Marcel commanded, shoving everyone forwards to make them move faster.

Shots rang out from further down the road; Evan mounted his horse, but waited until everyone else had taken off to start moving.

Lanai passed the satchel of money back to Simone so she could focus on shooting; She slowed her horse down so she covered their backs, and took shots at the lawmen following them out of the town.

“More on the right!” Marcel shouted, doing his best to lead the group away but also shoot the idiots coming after them. 

“Where we goin’, honey?” Simone asked, not bothering to try and shoot anyone; she could never be the kind of shot the rest of them were, that was never her style. 

“Across the train tracks, we just need to get past those.” Marcel took out another two men that were coming up on their left, and focused on where they were going. 

Past Valentine, through a field, up around a plateau, onto open plains. All the while keeping the law off of them.

The tracks were coming up, he was sure of it; of course, so was a train. 

“We need to beat that train, come on!” He kicked his heels into his horse, urging her ever faster on.

Evan let up on his rifle for now and tried not to think about getting hit by a train and losing all the money they just stole. 

Then he made it across the tracks just in time. The horn bellowed behind him as he joined his outlaws on the other side.

The lawmen were blocked by the train; flashes of them and their ugly mugs were briefly visible between the gaps of the train cars, and Evan let out a whoop of pure joy. 

With a huge grin, Marcel wanted nothing more to gloat in the lawmen’s faces until the train had passed. But they couldn’t. “Come on, we shouldn’t linger.” He took the lead again, and off they went. 

He brought them all to an abandoned cabin just outside of Lemoyne. They were probably an hour’s ride from camp, but they never returned to camp right after finishing a job. 

“Let’s wait here for a while, count out what we got,” Marcel suggested, already heading over to the fireplace. “I stashed some food here last time I was around, Lanai, why don’t you get us a meal settled?” 

“Just ‘cause I’m a woman, huh,” Lanai muttered under her breath, but still went to go search the pisspoor excuse of a kitchen area all the same. 

“What the hell is this shack?” Evan asked, examining the dirtied windows with a sneer. 

“Sorry it ain’t the height of luxury,” Marcel snapped, but the lack of anger gave him away. “Just some shithole I fixed up enough to make hiding out after jobs a little better. I thought we were gonna be staying around Valentine longer than we did.” 

Evan and Simone settled at the table, taking the money out and counting away. 

As they worked their way through the piles of bills, Evan felt weirder and weirder. The numbers had to be wrong, of course they had to be wrong, but he counted once, twice, three times. Simone was counting too, and she was good with numbers. 

The amount was correct, it was nothing  _ but _ correct, and yet… 

“How’d we do?” Marcel asked carefully, watching Evan’s blank glaze slide over to the money again. 

When Evan didn’t answer, Simone did. “Twenty thousand.” 

Everyone’s jaws dropped to the floor. 

“Are you serious?” Lanai asked, shuffling over to get a better look at the bills. 

“Twenty grand,” Evan reaffirmed. He reached out, touching one of the piles. Even though he had held it to count them, it still felt unreal. 

Marcel approached and picked up a stack. “Well holy shit, let’s divide this shit up-” 

“Wait!” Evan stood up, and took back the money from Marcel to put it back with the rest. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Simone stood as well, concern written plain on her face. 

Evan took a moment, unsure of how to formulate his thoughts. All he could think was that they had  _ twenty thousand fucking dollars _ . 

Eventually, the words started coming to him. “What if we gave it all to the camp?” He asked slowly, eyes never leaving the pile of green on the table. 

“Why?” Lanai asked, curious yet skeptical. 

“We could move west,” Evan murmured. “We could actually move west,” He said louder, forcing his gaze from the money to the outlaws around him. “It’d be tight, but we could really do it. Pack up our stuff, shit - we could leave by, hell, by tomorrow if we wanted! We could be gone, right here, right now.” 

He watched as the idea washed over the rest of the group. He could practically see Lanai and Simone attempting to figure out the logistics, Marcel wanting to say no but lacking a reason. 

Simone was the first to break from her pensive haze. “I think that’s a good idea,” She said softly yet firmly. She looked to the other outlaws, expecting them to disagree. 

But no one did.

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” Jonathan plopped a bowl of stew into Evan’s lap and sat down next to him as they sat before the fire. 

Evan could only shrug. “God, I hope so. Ty is smart enough to see a break when we get it.” 

The two lovers looked toward their tent, where Tyler, Craig, and Brian were currently having a meeting. They had shut the tent flaps, giving an illusion of privacy. 

Nogla had started playing his guitar, and Irish folk songs drowned out any other conversations. No one knew what was being said in their tent, and Evan couldn’t say he liked that. But he trusted Tyler.

“You did good today,” Jonathan murmured, shuffling a bit closer so their shoulders were touching. 

“We all did,” Evan said, quick to share the praise. 

“I don’t care about them, I care about you.  _ You _ did good today.” 

“I- thanks.” 

The two men ate in silence, waiting for either very good news or some shitty news. 

Tyler gripped the fabric of his tent tightly in his hand, almost tearing the fabric. More than any other moment, he wished he wasn’t the leader of this weird mishmash of people. He wished he wasn’t responsible for them, he wished he had no obligation to them. 

He wished he had whisked Evan away to paradise all those years ago, before they were even a proper gang. 

“You can do this, boss,” Craig told him gently, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re making the right call here, you know that.” 

Brian scoffed. 

“You got something you wanna say, Hanby?” Craig spat, taking refuge behind their boss’ back. 

“Not to you, Thompson.” Brian shoved his way past the two of them and stormed off towards the Barrus’. 

“Ignore him, he’s just pissy.” Craig lightly pushed Tyler towards the campfire, not being subtle in the fucking least. “You can do this, come on. We’ll all follow you to hell and back, you know that.” 

“You’re not helping,” Tyler snapped, jerking his shoulder away from the other outlaw. “Goodnight, Craig.” 

It was a dismissal if ever there was one. Craig just shrugged it off and went for his own tent.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Tyler approached his lovers. 

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Jonathan hissed. He looked to Evan, alarm and anger quickly melding into something truly fearsome. “Can you believe this?” 

Evan didn’t really know what he was feeling. He was certainly surprised, he thought moving now would be the best call to make. But he was tired from the robbery, and he was tired from the last few months, and he was just… disappointed. 

So he put on a smile, and looked to Tyler. “If you think this is the right call, I’m behind you.”   
“No, no!” Jonathan stood up, knocking the half-eaten bowl of stew from his lap onto the grass. “This is bullshit, Ty, what the fuck?” 

“Jon,” Evan stood too, getting in between him and Tyler. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s just not the right time to head west,” Tyler tried. 

Jonathan looked about two seconds away from slapping him. He didn’t though; he just grabbed Evan’s hand, and dragged him closer, away from Tyler. “I hope you like sleeping alone,” He hissed, yanking Evan’s arm until he started moving. 

As he saw that they were heading for Ohm’s tent, Evan stopped walking. Jonathan tripped from the sudden pause, and turned to look at Evan. “What?” 

“Is this necessary?” 

“You really wanna share a tent with him right now when he’s fucking the  _ entire camp _ over like this?” The fire in Jon’s eyes shone bright in the dark. 

“Not really,” Evan decided, moreso out of wanting to avoid Jonathan’s wrath for himself..

“Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do research to see if moving west with only 20k would actually be feasible but then I got bored so I gave up. Doesn't really matter since they don't, but still


	21. are you kidding me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel and Scotty get the gang some new guns, and things start to get worse from there on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all wouldn't mind checking out the end notes, I put some of my recent thoughts down there.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy the chapter!

This was less than pleasant. Riding for the better part of an hour into the bayou, going around an old abandoned church, following a wagon down a long ass road up to an abandoned plantation house situated right up against the swamp, swathed in trees and humidity and mosquitoes. Scotty could think of a few better ways to spend his afternoon. 

“What do you see?” 

Scotty huffed, elbowing the man next to him before returning his full attention to the scope on his rifle. “If you’d back the hell up, I’ll tell you!” 

Marcel threw his hands up in the air, but relented all the same. He shuffled away, giving the other man some space to breathe. 

Focusing in on the scrappy plantation house in the distance, Scotty slowly and deliberately swiped his rifle over the camp. “There’s maybe ten of ‘em outside, probably more inside. A couple wagons off to the side, could be holding somethin’ valuable. Are you sure this is worth it?”

“These assholes are arms dealers,” Marcel told him pointedly. “So they’re either sitting on a nice stack of cash, or-” 

“A nice stack of weapons,” Scotty supplied. 

“Exactly.” 

“And who are these fellows we’re stealing from?” 

Marcel scoffed. “Some lunatics who think the war ain’t ended yet.” 

Scotty looked up from his rifle to raise an eyebrow at his companion. “The Civil War?” He asked, disbelief in his voice. 

“Yep, that one. These idiots are still stuck in the past, hiding out in the swamps and waging an imaginary war against colored folks.” Marcel’s voice hardened, and his gaze filled with righteous anger. Then he smoothed it out with a smile, and looked to Scotty. “But their gold’s still shiny, and their guns still shoot. So how you wanna do this?” 

Scotty resumed looking through his rifle’s scope, giving the rundown plantation house another inspection. “I know dynamite crates when I see ‘em, we’d do well to draw them into one spot near those.” 

“So we could fight them honest, or I could head down there, actin’ friendly, and once you see a spot, you start shooting.” 

“Friendly?” Scotty parroted, looking back up from his scope. “With these pricks?” 

Marcel grinned. “I’m always up for a performance.” 

Scotty shook his head. “I reckon that’s just about the worst idea you’ve ever had. And you wanted to knock an apple off my head with a knife.” 

“Hey now, I almost did it!” 

“You almost took out my damn eye.” 

“Alright then, come up with something better.” 

“I shoot the fuckin’ dynamite, and then you go in guns blazin’ while I cover you from here.” 

Marcel scowled. “Fine,” He grunted, standing up and brushing off his trousers.

Scotty grinned, and aimed his scope towards the red crates sitting on the wagon. He waited a beat, and then fired. 

The explosion swallowed up the wagon entirely, bracing up against the rundown house and taking out a decent amount of the lunatics with it.

Marcel started running down the road, pistols raised and firing with precise yet wild abandon.

Men started flowing out from the house and from behind it, firing randomly and shouting nonsense. Marcel ducked behind a wagon, doing his best to take out the men directly in front of him while Scotty covered him. 

Then a hail of bullets rained down on the wagon, shredding it to pieces faster than a blink of an eye. 

“On the porch!” Marcel yelled, crouching as low as he could to avoid the brunt of it. 

Scotty looked up, towards the upper level of the house. The wrap-around porch was busted up, and in the middle of it, facing the road and manned by a particularly persistent prick, was a gatling gun. 

“Fucking take it out!” Marcel took a stick of dynamite out from his pocket - most likely swiped from Evan’s stash - lit it, tossed it towards the gazebo over to the edge of the clearing.

It wiped out a decent chunk of dirt in front of the gazebo, and took out three idiots with it.

Scotty ignored it and aimed for the porch, taking out the man behind the gatling gun with a clean shot. Marcel waited a beat, then popped out from the wagon like a gopher with a grin. 

“Get shit on!” He yelled as he ran out from his cover like an idiot and began firing at anything that moved. 

Scotty took out a few more men here and there, but the herd was thinning out too much; he shouldered his rifle, took out his shotgun, and pushed forward. A few crazies were lingering over to the side of the house, guarding a couple more carriages. 

They were dead in moments, and a disconcerting quiet smoothed over the chaos. 

“Anyone in the area could’ve heard that, we should get a move on,” Marcel said, voice startling soft. 

Scotty merely nodded, and went searching. He looted a few bodies, picked up a decent amount of ammunition, and then took the left side of the carnage to search the wagons. 

He found a whole bunch of nothing. No cash, no weapons. Just some dead crazies and a whole lot of empty liquor bottles. He meandered over to the other side of the clearing, admiring the house as he passed it. 

“This could be a potential place to set up camp,” He offered as he made his way to where Marcel was working over a wagon. 

“Hopefully we won’t be here long enough to need it,” Marcel muttered. He popped over a crate, and smiled. “Scott, come look at this.” 

As Scotty climbed up onto the wagon, Marcel let out a whistle for their horses. 

“Holy shit,” Scotty murmured. The crate was packed with rifles, all of them shiny and brand new. He picked up one, testing the sight and feel of it. “Damn these are nice.” 

“And more dynamite,” Marcel pointed out, nudging a red crate with his boot. “Let’s get our horses hooked up here and then be on our way.”

Ten minutes later saw them riding out of Shady Belle with a carriage full of weapons and a smile on their faces. 

So of course, no sooner had they left the bayou behind did a group of riders come up in front of them, blocking the road. 

“Why’s a black feller comin’ from Shady Belle in one of  _ our _ wagons?” The first rider spoke up, leveling his suspicious glare towards Marcel. 

Marcel didn’t take it lightly. He opened his mouth to tell them off, but was cut off by Scotty. 

“We were conducting business with your brothers,” He quickly said, ignoring the belligerent anger radiating from his companion. 

“You don’t look like any type of folk we’d conduct business with,” The third rider sneered.

“The business was conducted to the full satisfaction of all parties involved,” Scotty told them. “Until now, anyways” He added under his breath.

The three idiots shared a look, and the second one shook his head. “Nah, I don’t believe this. Get these lyin sonsof-” 

His head exploded in a spectacular spread of gore, courtesy of Marcel’s well-timed shot. Scotty took out the one on the left while Marcel got the last one, and then they were on their way home once again.

They were quiet for maybe a single minute before Scotty turned to his companion. 

Marcel raised an eyebrow at him, but mostly concentrated on driving the wagon as fast as was safe. “What the hell you lookin’ at?” 

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you, but what do you think about… well, about Chrissy?” 

“What about her? She’s a good shot with a terrible attitude.” 

“Because you’re just a ray of damn sunshine.” 

“Never said I was. Hey, man, I like Chrissy. She’s pretty great, she’s just also awful sometimes.” 

“Yeah.” Scotty let out a chuckle, and sank further down into his seat. He got comfortable as he rested his head against Marcel’s arm. “I really like her.” 

Marcel snorted. “I’m aware. Hell, the entire camp knows.” 

“What?” 

“You look at her like she hung the damn sun, brother.”

Scotty’s cheeks flushed, and he blamed it on the heat of the sun beating down on them. He thought for a moment, and buried his face into the material of Marcel’s jacket. He said something, but the words were too muffled. 

“Speak up, dumbass.” 

“I think I wanna marry her!” Scotty said louder, then gasped. He’d never spoken the words aloud, but now that they were out, he couldn’t take them. He didn’t think he wanted too. 

Marcel’s look was less than impressed. “Good. I mean, she could do better but-” 

“Ass!” Scotty shoved Marcel away, scooting over to the far edge of the bench to pout. 

Marcel’s cackle was loud enough that it could be heard in the next state. “You know I’m just joking. You should go for it, you two are good together.” 

“What if she says no?” 

“As she should? Kidding, brother, kidding. And she won’t.” 

“I still need a ring.” 

“Then get one, idiot.” 

“Shut up. And… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Bitch.”

Evan returned from helping Kelly tend to the horses - a job Ohm normally took upon himself but he and Jonathan were on their way to Strawberry - to see Anthony waiting outside his tent. Curiosity lent him an extra spark in his step as he approached the man who had taken residence on a crate, carving some sort of shape into a bit of wood as he waited. 

“Anthony,” Evan greeted him with a nod. 

“Evan,” came the stiff reply. “Where’s Tyler?”

“If he ain’t here, then I don’t know.” 

“Do you know where he coulda’ gone?” 

“What do you need him for?” Evan couldn’t deny that he was extremely curious as to what Anthony wanted; it’d been a while since the man had been hands-on with seemingly anything. Though Evan knew Anthony still contributed to camp plenty. 

Anthony let out a weary sigh, gaze flickering to the gathering of tents off to the side. “I got some good news for him, is all.” 

“If it’s good news, why do you seem so down?” Evan took a seat on the other side of the crate. 

“Just tired, it’s nothing. Anyways, you know the sayin’ ‘blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called…?”

“Cowards? I don’t know.” 

“Me either, to be honest. But you get the gist. While you and Craig and Brian have been runnin’ around, digging us ever deeper into shit, I think Brock went and lowered the stress a little.” 

Evan looked to where Brock and Lauren were sitting with Brian at the table in the center of camp, chatting away over mugs of tea and a game of dominoes. They looked very happy like that.

“Ain’t you curious?” Anthony asked, standing up when he saw Tyler ride into camp. “Hey, Brock, come over here!” 

Tyler fell in beside Brock as they approached, the former looking confused while the latter seemed hesitant.

“Boys,” Tyler greeted them all with a raised eyebrow. He went to stand beside Evan, leaving more space than he would like but feeling all too well the bitterness of having spent the night alone in their tent. 

“Go on, tell them what you told me,” Anthony coaxed Brock, gesturing for him to start talking. 

Brock looked confused at that, but ignored it for looking to their leader. “It’s peace, Tyler, with Blevins. I think there’s a way.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler asked, wondering if he’d heard correctly. He ignored Craig, who had taken the commotion to mean that he was wanted and had walked up behind Anthony. 

“I went into town for some stuff for Lauren, and I ran into a couple of Blevins’ boys. They didn’t really know who I was, but I overheard them sayin’ your name so I started up a conversation. They weren’t too friendly, but eventually they said they were lookin’ for one of you, to suggest a parley. ‘To end things like gentlemen’ they said.”

“Gentlemen?” Tyler snorted. “Blevins is a whole lotta things, and gentleman is nowhere on that list.”

“You’re always sayin’ that we shouldn’t fight wars that aren’t worth fightin’,” Craig spoke up. “And this Blevins thing has been going on for  _ years _ .” 

Evan fought back the urge to tell Craig that he didn’t even know the half of it, but there was truth to it all. And yet… 

“A parley?” Brain asked, looking up from his game of dominoes to give a pointed look to all of them. “It’s a trap.” 

Craig waved him off. “Well, yeah, it’s probably a trap but have we got to lose in finding out?” 

“We get shot,” Evan snapped.

Tyler pointed at him in agreement.

Craig just scoffed. “We won’t get shot cause you’ll be protecting us,” He tried to place his hand on Evan’s shoulder but was immediately shrugged off. “Look, if it’s a trap, you shoot the lot of them. If it isn’t… well,” He turned to Tyler and offered a grin. “Then we get one goddamn mess off our backs, right? Come on, boss, think about it.”

“I don’t see the point in any of this.” Tyler pushed through Craig and Anthony to stomp over to the table, placing his hands on the worn wood and leaning on them. 

“Me either,” Brian agreed, abandoning the dominoes in favor of leaning back in his chair to glare at Craig. “It’s a stupid idea.” 

“It’s a chance we have to take,” Craig corrected him through gritted teeth. 

“No, it really isn’t,” Evan told him. 

“Blevins betrayed me a long time ago, and I retaliated by killing his sonofabitch brother,” Tyler stated as if he were sharing the weather. “There’s no love lost between us, and certainly no chance at a parley.” 

Craig rounded the other side of the table, planting himself firmly in Tyler’s line of vision. “As you say,” He said, voice low and tone dangerously empathetic. “It was a long time ago. People change, you’ve changed yourself. With all the shit we got goin’ on right now, what with the Pinkertons-”

“From Blackwater, a job  _ you  _ planned,” Brian reminded him with a glare.

Craig raised his hand to block out Brian’s face. “And Cornwall’s private army-” 

“Also from the train you encouraged us to rob,” Evan mentioned. 

“And who knows when this local hillbilly thing will end-” 

“Which you made much worse than it needed to be,” Brian said. 

“We can’t be fighting on  _ all _ these fronts,  _ and  _ Blevins!” Craig raised his voice, because obviously if you were louder than everyone else, you were inherently correct. 

Evan shared a glance with Brian, who looked as if he wanted to throw himself across the table and stangle Craig with his bare hands. Briefly, Evan wondered what would happen if Brian did do that; he wasn’t entirely sure he would attempt to stop the Irishman. 

His thoughts were drawn back to the present by Tyler standing back up to his full height, and giving them all a resigned glare. “Fine, fine, if it’ll get you to shut the hell up, we’ll check it out. You and me, with Evan and Nogla on the lookout.”

“Wait, what?” Brian stood up with enough force to know his chair over. “You can’t be fuckin’ serious?” 

“And no one else!” Tyler snapped, stalking towards his horse with his shoulders squared and mind made up. 

Craig wasted no time in going to fetch Nogla, leaving Evan behind with a dumbfounded look on his face. 

“What the fuck was that?” Brian exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. 

Brock was by his side in an instant, rubbing the man’s arms to console him. 

“I swear, sometimes I don’t know what the hell is going on around here,” Evan muttered, mostly to himself, as he left to go get his rifle and saddle up his horse. 

“I’ve been fightin’ with Tyler Blevins for so long now, I can scarcely remember a time before we hated each other’s guts,” Tyler remarked as they exited the woods, speaking up to be heard over the pounding of their horses’ hooves. 

From where he rode out in front to keep a lookout, Nogla scoffed. “You’re still fightin’ him, don’t forget that.” 

“Oh come on, not you too,” Craig groaned from his position at the back. “Is there any plan y’all ain’t sour on?” 

“We’re just nervous, cut us some slack,” Evan told him. He looked to Tyler, who he was riding alongside, but his lover’s mind was far, far away. 

“Besides,” Nogla cut in. “What plan has ever involved you and also gone right?” 

Craig sneered at that. “‘Cause you’re one to talk. And anyways, this can’t go wrong! With you and Evan watchin’ while Tyler and I walk into the lions’ den, everything will be just fine.” 

“With Ev watching me, I would walk into Hell straight on,” Tyler offered, bringing himself to the present enough to give Evan a hopeful smile. 

“As would I,” Craig added, ruining the moment entirely. 

They traveled in silence as they left their camp behind. They eventually broke free of the forest, and came upon some grasslands, closer to Valentine than Rhodes. The journey gave Evan plenty of time to feel worse and worse about this as his brain unhelpfully supplied a myriad of scenarios where they didn’t make it out unscathed. 

He chanced a glance towards Tyler, and their eyes met in a moment of mutual concern. Then Tyler’s eyes glazed over, and his confident facade was back in place. 

“Everything’ll be fine,” He murmured, reaching a hand over, palm towards the sky.

Evan took his lover’s hand with a sigh, his thumb rubbing little circles over his knuckles. “Sure.” 

They crossed a dried river and Nogla slowed his horse down at the base of a hill. “Up there, some men on the ridge,” He observed, pointing out the silhouettes of four riders as they passed along the top of the hill. 

“Blevins’ by the look of them,” Craig said. 

“Can you tell from the shape of their horses’ asses?” Evan jeered, channeling his growing unease into irritation. 

Craig shot him a glare, and Tyler cleared his throat. 

“I don’t like havin’ eyes on us,” Nogla said, urging his horse in a slowed canter alongside the hill.

“We’re close,” Craig told him, attempting and failing to be reassuring. “You’ll be the eyes soon enough.” He took the lead since he knew where the meeting spot was, and Tyler rode up beside him. 

Nogla fell in with Evan, and they urged their horses to follow alongside Tyler and Craig. They rounded the hill, then started to head up another. 

Craig got a little closer to Tyler, more than was necessary. “Maybe they’re right, Ty,” He said, sounding more remorseful than he definitely felt. “I guess I have been getting us into situations that could’ve been safer.” 

Nogla snorted, and all Evan could think about was how Craig was the reason he torched an entire plantation’s worth of tobacco fields to the ground. 

“But I just… I see all those mouths we got to feed, and I just, well, I dream too big. Caring too much, that’s my problem.” 

Evan wanted to chuck a rock at the back of Craig’s skull. Unfortunately, Tyler didn’t feel the same way about the obviously fake words. 

“There’s no such thing as caring too much,” Tyler offered his hand out, resting it on Craig’s shoulders. 

“This is horse shite!” Nogla spluttered, glancing at Evan for affirmation. “From both of you’s!” 

Tyler grunted. “Maybe it is, but everyone’s got their own bullshit these days. As long as you’re useful to the gang, I don’t care. And that’s that, Nogla, so shut up.” 

They rounded the hill, and came up to another ridge. 

“This is where we’re meeting, on the other side here,” Craig told them. “So you two, go find a high ridge to settle into to keep an eye on things. You both got those rifles, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nogla muttered, already turning his horse and aiming for the hill. 

Evan gave Tyler a worried look, but it had no effect on the man’s disposition. “Alright, well, no matter how this thing goes, let’s meet back up at the fork in the road,” He jerked his thumb towards the way they had come. 

“It’s settled,” Tyler nodded his head.

With a sigh, Evan and Nogla continued riding up the hill while Craig and Tyler worked their way around. 

“I got an insanely bad feelin’ about this,” Nogla said, his fingers worrying at the reins in his hands. 

“You and me both,” Evan agreed. “You go left and I’ll go right?” 

“Don’t die, or I’m gonna kill the hell out of Tyler for this.” They parted ways after that cheery thought, Nogla heading to one side of the cliff while Evan took the other. 

He stopped his horse a good ten feet from the cliff, and went the rest of the way on foot. He settled down onto the grass a good bit from a hawks’ nest, and set up his rifle. It was one of the new ones Marcel and Scotty had brought back, and after Evan got it fitted with a scope, it was simply a dream. 

He wished he could be using it in any other circumstance. He got out his binoculars first and crouched down, hoping for the sake of his knees that this would all be over soon. The cliff dropped down quite a bit, and the field itself stretched on for seemingly miles. 

He looked over to Nogla, who waved at him; he waved back, and turned his attention to the field. 

Craig and Tyler were reduced to small blurs of color; Evan raised his binoculars and focused in on them. 

Craig was saying something, but Tyler wasn’t paying attention; his eyes were on the other side of the field. A moment passed, and then Tyler covered Craig’s mouth with his left hand and used the right to point to something. 

Evan lowered his binoculars, and saw a group of three horsemen approaching. He grabbed his rifle, and tried to not hold his breath. Tyler was guarded, hands resting on his pistols as the riders got closer.

Eventually they dismounted, and Evan recognized Tyler Blevins for the tall, scrawny scarecrow of a man that he was. Even from such a great distance, Evan could see how greasy the man’s entire being was. 

Hands hooked in his belt, Blevins approached Tyler, feigning the ease that comes with being partners for a long time. 

Their words were lost to the open space, their voices reduced to audible blurs. They started talking, clipped statements if their scrunched faces were anything to go by. At one point, Blevins had cackled loud enough for Evan to hear, and the sound grated on his ears. 

Evan watched as Blevins and Tyler stepped closer, until one of them could grab the other if they chose. He chanced a glance over to Nogla, but his side of the cliff was empty. 

He was gone. Nogla was gone. 

Evan heard something scuffling behind him, and went to stand up. 

Only for the butt of a shotgun to slam across the side of his head. Evan was out cold before he even hit the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, if any of y'all are on twitter then you might've seen the shit going on with Craig. If you haven't, then a long story short is that his ex, Samantha, and a few others have come out against him, revealing that he's kind of an awful person. I can't really sum it up properly, I would just go to twitter for the full story: https://twitter.com/SuniDey/status/1275535608513953799
> 
> All that being said, I said earlier in the story that the way I will write Craig and his actions don't reflect how I feel about him as a person. Yeah, fuck that. I'm was never a huge fan of him, and now I really don't like him. That's putting it lightly. 
> 
> The only reason I'm going to continue to write him in my story is that him being the villain is integral to the plot. I dislike him, and his ending will reflect that. I do not in any way condone the shit he's done, and if any of you are in a situation with someone like him, I hope you get out of it. 
> 
> Of course, you are all welcome to your own opinion about Craig. I'm just telling y'all mine, and what that means for the rest of my story. If you think differently, that's fine. But he is the villain of my story, and my feelings towards him will reflect that. Thanks for taking the time to read this. I've had a lot of thoughts about this situation, being someone who was manipulated by an older person, so I wanted to address this before we move on.


	22. desperate times, desperate measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan doesn't have a good time. Thankfully, his less-than-stellar vacation is short-lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a couple more tags but just in case I'll put them here too: 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: period-typical homophobia and some gore. The gore isn't too bad, and the homophobia is brief, but they are there, so beware, please.

“Maybe they already started heading back-” 

“We would’ve seen them, you idiot,” Tyler snapped. His grip on his reins grew so tight he could hear the leather squeaking under his hands. “And besides, we agreed to meet  _ right here _ . So where the fuck are they?” 

Craig could only shrug. He was a little worried - he had hoped beyond hope that this meeting would go off without a hitch, and so far, that wasn’t really the case. Blevins just said some nonsense, he and Tyler reminisced about the old days and about how they both hated each other, and then Blevins fucked off. Definitely no parley in the making, here. 

And now Nogla and Evan were late. 

“Fuck this, I’m going to go see what the hell is going on.” Tyler urged his horse up the hill, refusing to acknowledge the budding concern threatening to close up his throat. He heard Craig following him after a moment, and personally could care less. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see when he came up on the ridge. Maybe Nogla and Evan wrestling in the dirt, it wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe them watching the birds or some shit, there was a group of hawks circling a carcass in the distance. All he wanted was Nogla and Evan to actually be there. 

Instead, all he got was Nogla lying in the dirt, and no Evan to be seen. 

Fear gripped his heart, but he couldn’t give in. He jumped off his horse, and rushed over to Nogla. 

The Irishman was unconscious; there was a small gash on the side of his head, still oozing blood into his hair. 

Tyler grabbed Nogla’s arms, hoisting him up as best as he could. Eventually Craig came to his side, helping without a word to get the Irishman up. 

Something brought Nogla back, and he let out a heavy groan. “Fuck me head,” He croaked, letting himself be dragged back to his horse. 

“Nogla, what the fuck happened?” Tyler fought to keep his voice steady. 

When they got close to his horse, Nogla reached out a hand to steady himself upon his stallion; He took a few deep breaths, and accepted the canteen Craig pressed into his free hand. He greedily gulped down the water, only pausing to almost throw it all back up. 

“What happened,” Tyler repeated himself, patience wearing horribly thin. 

“Some  _ prick _ ,” Nogla snapped, fighting through the pain to get to the memory. “Came up behind me, knocked me out.” He took a look around, brows furrowing. “Where’s Evan?” 

“He’s probably around here somewhere,” Craig tried to assure him. 

Only to be met with a burning glare from Tyler.

“He’s fucking gone,” Tyler spat, as if the words hurt him to admit. And they did. He was supposed to protect Evan, supposed to keep him safe. 

Nogla reached a hand out, missing Tyler’s shoulder at first but eventually finding it. “We’re of no use to him like this,” He said. “Let’s go back to camp, get Kelly on this. If anyone can find him, she will.” 

“I want to look for him first,” Tyler jerked back from the Irishman’s touch, and went for his own horse. “You two get out of here, I’ll see you back at camp.”  
“Absolutely not,” Craig told him before Nogla had the chance. “We’re sticking together, who knows what other shit they might try to pull.” 

“I knew this was a fuckin’ trap,” Nogla muttered, just low enough for Craig to hear. Then, louder, he said, “Tyler, please. We can’t find him like this, let’s just go back. It’ll be too dark soon.” 

Tyler looked west, and felt his stomach sink. The sun was beginning to set. They wouldn’t be able to find anything soon. 

Guilt clenched tight in his stomach; fury burned through his veins. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to puke, rip his hair out, or cry. But leaders don’t do any of that. 

Leaders keep themselves composed in times of stress. Even when one of the loves of their life got kidnapped by savage sonsofbitches. 

“Let’s go home,” Nogla urged softly, approaching him as he might a wild dog. 

Tyler gave him a stiff nod, mounted his horse, and set off without another word.

When Evan was jerked back into consciousness, the first thing he was aware of was the immediate sense of  _ danger _ all around him. 

It was muted, as though his brain was composed of candy floss instead of actual brain. Everything was hazy except the pain rolling through every bone of his body. 

“Handin’ him over to the law, it just don’t feel right… strange times.” A Scottish accent floated over to him, giving him a spark of awareness. He didn’t recognize the speaker, and he knew he wouldn’t want to. 

He forced his eyes open; he had to squint despite the dark of night covering everything, and the blurry outlines of four men sitting around a fire revealed themselves to him.

“They killed our boss’  _ brother _ , man!” Another spoke up, far too loudly. “With this feller, we can bring in the whole lot of ‘em.” 

Evan flexed his arms, testing the binds around his wrists. They were tight, but not too bad; the rope around his ankles was frayed, and these idiots somehow missed the knife stuck inside his boot. 

“But where did Tyler and Patrick head off to?” 

“Into town, to speak with the law.” 

Evan sawed through the rope around his ankles, doing his best to be silent. These men jabbering was loud enough to cover him. 

“That has to be crap. It ain’t worth the risk.” 

“Tyler’s got a sense about Wine here, he knows he can play him. Once he realizes we got his man here, he’ll come rushing back right into a trap, mark my words.” 

_ I knew it was a fucking trap _ , Evan thought to himself. He didn’t waste any time on the binds on his wrists, he just started slowly inching away from the gathering of men. 

“And then we can head off, free as birds.” 

Evan pushed himself up off the ground and began sprinting for the woods. 

“He’s escaping! Shoot him!” 

Eyes locked on the forest, knowing he could lose them there, Evan made a break directly for the tree line; no sooner had he gotten within ten feet did a burning pain spread from his calf to the rest of his leg. 

He stumbled and fell back to the ground, and got a face full of leaves for his effort. 

“Did I kill ya?” The Scottish man asked as he rolled Evan onto his back with his pistol. 

“Not yet,” Evan groaned, wincing as a boot kicked around the wound. 

“No of course not,” Another man said, appearing on Evan’s left side with a shotgun. He pressed it directly to his shoulder, a greasy smile distorting his dirtied face. “But I will.” 

He fired a shot directly into Evan’s shoulder, and the sounds of cruel laughter carried Evan back to hell. 

“You better be joking.” The ice in Jonathan’s voice was cold enough to freeze the entire camp around them. No one dared to move as he stood in the center of it all, having welcomed back their leader from their expedition. 

Tyler, to his credit, met Jon’s glare head on. “I wish I was.” 

“No, no,  _ no _ ! This has to be a fucking joke, Evan’s with you, and he’s just hanging back because you’re a bunch of pricks playing a joke on all of us! Evan, come the fuck out, this isn’t funny!” 

Jonathan made to stalk over to the horses, presumably to check for the missing man, but Tyler’s arms wrapped around him, bringing him in for a too-tight embrace. Jonathan wanted to fight it, he wanted to push Tyler away, maybe even bite him, but Tyler was too strong.

“I’m so sorry,” Tyler whispered, letting his guilt seep into those three little words. 

Jonathan almost broke. Frozen, he blinked away tears that had no business falling. Just as Tyler was about to pull back, Jonathan shot his arms around him, hugging him back just as tight. “We’ll find him,” He whispered back, burying his face into Tyler’s neck, pulling himself even closer to the taller man. “We’ll fucking find him or so help me, God-” 

“I promise I’ll get him back if the last thing I do,” Tyler told him. He pulled away just enough to press a kiss to Jon’s forehead, then separated completely and turned to where Kelly stood by the Barrus’. “First thing tomorrow, I need you to go out and see if you can find a trail.” 

Kelly nodded, accepting her orders without complaint.

“With all due respect,” Craig’s voice piped up over the fray, inducing a few groans from around them. “I think we’re blowing this out of proportion. There’s no proof that he was taken, maybe Evan just wanted to get away for a little bit.” 

Jonathan whirled on the British man, the fire of a thousand suns burning in his gaze. “He would’ve told us, you stupid sonofabitch! Now unless the next thing out of your mouth is you offering to help Kelly find him, shut the fuck up or I’ll pop your stupid eyes out of your skull with my thumb!” 

Craig jerked back as if he’d been bitten, and Jonathan huffed. 

Tyler rubbed his hands up and down Jon’s arms, having seen Evan do that a couple times to soothe him. “Easy, tiger. You showed him.” 

“Anybody else feeling like getting Evan back isn’t a fucking priority right now?” Jonathan called out, daring someone to agree. 

No one did. Lauren stepped forward, and Jon tensed, preparing to fight, but all she said was, “We all want him back too, honey. Just tell us what you want us to do.” 

The next Evan woke up, he was thrown under wave after wave of unsettling nausea. He tries his best to keep whatever remains in his stomach inside his body, but it was an uphill battle.

Being slung over the back of a horse didn’t help. He couldn’t remember the last time he was in this position, but he didn’t really remember a whole lot at the moment. All he could hear was his own groaning, and all he could see was horse. 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he threw up all over the horse before he passed out again.

The next thing he was aware of was the awful clanging of chains. Metal hitting metal sent a fresh wave of agony through his mind until it settled right behind his eyes as a migraine. 

Cold wrapped around his ankles, and he was pulled by it. He blinked, not registering what he was seeing as he was hoisted up by his ankles. 

They were the first to leave the ground, then his legs, then the rest of him. His head dragged painfully against the ground for a second, and he was pretty sure some of his hair got caught on the rough ground and tore, until he was suspended upside down. 

He threw up again, and it was even worse; he spluttered and it scorched his throat. 

“Disgustin’,” One of the men said, giving him a good punch to his side for it. 

Evan hardly felt it; the agony kept building and building, and he could feel himself starting to grow numb to it all. 

The two men left him, and he tried his best to pay attention to his surroundings. It was difficult with the haze in his mind, but with enough staring, he managed to gather that he was in some sort of cellar. 

He couldn’t even begin to guess where the hell he was outside of that, though. He couldn’t tell how long they were traveling. It might’ve been hours, it might’ve been days. 

All Evan could do was hope that Tyler would come for him soon. His shoulder was searing with pain in a way that a simple gunshot wouldn’t. It didn’t take a doctor to know that it was only a matter of time before the fever set in.

“Have you got the trail?” Tyler demanded, tapping his boot against the ground in impatience. 

Kelly shot him a glare, but didn’t say anything. She just nodded to Brock, who pointed to something on the ground. 

“Tracks, looks like a set of four,” Brock claimed, sounding like he was trying to rein in his own excitement. “They keep going east.” 

Tyler nodded, and went for his horse. Kelly caught up to him, blocking his way with a hesitant look on her face. 

“What?” He tried not to snap, but he was wound tighter than a spring at the prospect of finding these bastards.

Kelly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Down that way is a busy road. We might lose the trail completely,” She told him gently. 

“It’s been less than a day,” Tyler stressed, brushing her off. “We’ll find it.” 

Kelly conceded to his staunch belief, and mounted her horse. She led the way, with Brock beside her. He’d gotten much better at tracking, and she figured they could use this as an opportunity to put his skills to the test with her to back him up. That, and two trackers were better than one. 

Tyler followed closely behind, watching the horizon around them as if another group of Blevins’ might pop up to finish the job. 

He didn’t pay any mind to Kelly and Brock until they both stopped at the one of the main roads that ran through the grasslands. 

“The fuck is the holdup?” He demanded. 

Kelly took a deep breath, and looked to her leader with resignation clear in her scowl. “It’s like I told you, Ty, there’s too much going on here,” She gestured uselessly to the dirt path, covered in dozens of tracks. “I’m really sorry but-” 

“No, no ‘but’, Kelly. You have to find him, you have to!” 

“Tyler-” 

“For fuck’s sake, how difficult could it be to look at the dirt and find him! There were four motherfuckers, that can’t be so hard to lose, how incompetent-” 

“Tyler!” Kelly interrupted the man’s tirade. “I get you’re upset, but yelling at me won’t help anyone! The trail is no good, okay?” 

Tyler shook his head furiously. “T-that can’t be-” 

“It is, man,” Brock assured him as nicely as he could. “I’m sorry.” 

The door to the cellar opened, and the lanky form of Tyler Blevins descended the steps. He held a lantern and a plate, and looked all too happy to be here. 

“Evan Fong,” He greeted the outlaw with a malicious grin that clashed with his overly friendly tone. “Been a while, huh?”

“Not long enough,” Evan conceded. 

Blevins set the lantern down on a table, and focused on the plate. He gathered up a spoonful of whatever it was, and held it down to feed it to Evan. “How’s the wound?” 

Evan shoved away the spoon, untrusting of anything to do with Blevins. It sent shockwaves of pain up his body, and he couldn’t help but groan. He coughed, and offered Blevins his winning-smile. “Hardly feel it,” He lied. 

“You will,” Blevins promised, standing up straight. He took a bite of the food, and took to pacing the cellar. “Septic, shit ain’t nice.” He ate for a moment, then disregarded the plate in favor of the hanging outlaw. “Answer me somethin’, will ya? A fine gun like you, why you still running with that idiot Wine, hm? Why, when you could ride with me and make some real money.” 

Evan wouldn’t be surprised if Blevins knew of his dream to someday move west. Long ago, he would’ve considered Blevins a friend. Before he betrayed Tyler and left them both to die. “It was never about the money, Blevins,” Evan told the man honestly. 

Blevins sneered, stepping back to look Evan down and up. “So it’s about being his pathetic little bed-warmer, huh?” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “And here I was, hoping that maybe Wine hadn’t infected you with his disgusting inversions. That’s a real shame, Evan. I liked you, I hoped we could work together, maybe go down in history with how we would steal.”

Evan’s blood boiled, and it wasn’t just from the infection that was definitely working his system over. 

“But, even I gotta admit that Wine’s a charismatic man. Guess it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to all that unnatural  _ bullshit _ .” Blevins punctuated his last word with a kick to Evan’s side. 

Evan cried out, bringing his right arm out to hold his side. He swung from the force, making him even more dizzy and his surroundings even more blurred. 

“You killed a whole lot of my boys at Six Point Cabin,” Blevins seethed, pacing the cellar with the aura of an apex predator that was too tall for its own good. 

Evan managed a scoff. “I got no clue what you’re talkin’ about.” 

Blevins chuckled, pulling out a pistol and leveling it at the outlaw’s face. “You lie, friend. And Wine always told me he appreciates honesty.” 

Evan tried to shove the pistol away, missing by several inches. “Let me go, Blevins,” He implored the other gang leader. “End all this shit between you and Tyler, we got  _ real _ problems now.” 

Tyler Blevins lowered his pistol with a smirk. “Way I see it, they get him, and they forget all about little ol’ me.” He patted his chest, and his rings gleamed in the light.

“They aren’t the forgettin’ sort.” Evan thought back to when he and Brock were fishing, and thought the idiot agents with their stupid hats. “If I were you, I’d run as soon as I had the money.” 

“You always been the runnin’ type,” Blevins snorted, patting the outlaw on his stomach with condescension radiating from him. “But I ain’t, so how’s this for ya’; we lure an angry Wine back in here, we capture the lot of ya’, we take all ya’ in, reap the benefits of your sizable bounties, and disappear.” 

Evan needed to confirm, “So you only met with him to grab me?” 

“Of course I did!” Blevins crowed, nudging Evan with his pistol. “The only other time I wanna see his ugly mug is when I’m putting a damn bullet or ten through it.” He took a deep breath, and calmed himself. “But I’m afraid I won’t get that luxury. No, when he comes in here all raging with that gang of misfits, the law’ll be waitin’ for all of ya’.” 

He stepped closer to the hanging man, tossed his pistol up into the air, caught it by the barrel, raised it, and gave Evan an evil grin. “Oh, Evan Fong, have I got plans for you.” He hit Evan’s torso with the butt of his pistol, wailed on him again and again with all the force he could muster. 

Evan lost count, but the amount of hits was well into the double digits by the time he passed out and the darkness saved him from the pain.

Lauren gently tapped her knuckles against the tent post, trying her best to juggle two bowls of stew and two mugs of coffee without spilling any of it. 

“Who is it?” Tyler’s gruff voice, weak yet wary, was hardly audible through the canvas. 

“I have supper if you two are feeling up for it,” She offered. 

“We aren’t hungry.” 

“Can I come in?” 

A pause. Then, a hesitant, “Sure.” 

Lauren pushed the tent flap out of her way, and nodded to Tyler and Jonathan. The former was sitting on the cot, legs over the side and feet planted firmly on the floor while the latter sat before him, back pushed against his legs and head leaned up onto his lap. She stepped over Jon’s spindly legs, and placed everything on the table.

“I know you said you weren’t hungry, but we’d all appreciate it if you could eat something. You need your strength.” 

“Thanks.” Jonathan’s words were empty and he didn’t even bother a second glance at the food. 

Lauren gave them a nod and wiped her hands off on her dress. “You two need anything else?” 

Tyler shook his head. “I think we’re good,” He told her curtly but gently. 

“Just holler if you do.” Lauren left the two of them alone, making her way back to where her husband and Brian stood over the stew pot, doling out bowls for the rest of camp. 

“They eat?” Brock asked, chancing a glance over to the tent she had come from. 

Lauren sighed, a wistful sound. “No, they didn’t even move.” 

Brian swallowed harshly, feeling the loss of Evan pierce through his heart. He knew his pain couldn’t even compare to Tyler’s or Jonathan’s, but dammit if he wasn’t hurting as well. 

Evan was a steadfast presence in the gang. He was the one to go to for just about anything; if something needed to be destroyed, if someone needed to be taught a lesson, or if a shoulder to cry on was needed. 

Brian could remember the first time he’d been brought to the main camp; he and Nogla, fresh off the boats from Ireland, rubbing their grimy little hands together in the land of opportunity. Them trying to case a guy who was less drunk than he seemed, who caught them just as Brian was  _ so close _ to getting the gold watch from the man’s pocket.

The man laughing, introducing himself as Evan Fong. Telling them that the watch was stolen from another patron of the bar they were at, and being impressed with how far they had gotten the watch from his pocket. Evan telling them that they were the first to get so close to stealing from him in years. 

Evan bringing Brian and Nogla back to his camp, where Tyler and Craig were waiting for them. Craig whining about two more mouths to feed, Tyler being excited about two more potential-outlaws to help him rob the bank he’d been casing since they’d been in town. 

Evan being the first to give Brian and Nogla a real chance at life. 

Brian remembered all of that clear as day, despite it happening years ago. He knew for a fact that Nogla did too. 

“Honey, you okay?” Lauren’s concerned face broke through the haze of memories, and her hand pushed his arm back down to the table. 

Brian hadn’t realized he’d been holding an empty spoon up in the air, as if he were going to take a bite of stew but simply forgot. He let the spoon clink into the bowl and gently shoved it away. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“I’m okay,” He lied.

Lauren could see right through it, but she said nothing. She just took his bowl over to the washbasin as Brock placed a bottle of beer in front of him. 

Brian watched as the Barrus’ seemed to flicker around camp, watching over the entirety of the gang as grief and anger gripped the hearts of everyone. 

With a twinge of self-deprecation on behalf of the outlaws, Brian considered them to be good practice for the Barrus’ for their child. Especially since, right now, it seemed that the group of outlaws - people who were forced to be independent too young, forced to learn too early that the world didn’t give a shit about them, who found a family from the ashes of civilization - were put out of commission at the loss of Evan fucking Fong.

Evan promised to himself that when he got back to camp - not if, he couldn’t afford to think of ‘if’, no, it was only  _ when _ \- when he got back to camp, he was going to tear Tyler Wine a new asshole. 

Everyone said it was a damn trap. Everyone. Evan, Brian, hell, even  _ Craig _ considered the meeting a stupid sham. But Tyler listened anyways, and now here they were. Well, here  _ he  _ was, anyway.

There was a file on the table. A metal file, sitting all nice and shiny in the pitiful candle light. 

With a huff, and a puff, Evan started swinging. Back and forth, back and forth, not letting himself puke (he didn’t even know if there was anything left to leave his body at this point, it’s not like he was being fed or anything). Back and forth, gaining momentum, until he could scrap his hand against the table and grab the file.

He shoved it into the cuffs around his ankles, groaning as bending forward compressed his bruised torso, and picked the lock with all the precision of a baby gazelle drunk on moonshine. 

The lock clicked, and he fell. 

At this point, he didn’t even feel the impact of the floor. He just dragged himself to the table, throwing himself into the chair with a groan. He needed to clean his wound, he needed to take care of it before anything else. 

He could feel the infection burning him from the inside out. Suddenly wishing more than anything that he’d payed more fucking attention to Simone’s lessons, he gave a quick prayer to anyone who bothered to listen that he wouldn’t fuck himself up anymore. 

With a shaky breath, Evan held the metal file over the flame of the sad little candle. He counted to twenty, closed his eyes, and shoved it into his shoulder. Fresh pain broke though the numbness, causing his arm to spasm and tears to build. 

He angled the file up and around, just barely picking up the sound of the bullet falling from his shoulder and landing on the floor. 

He yanked the file out, his grip on it so tight that his knuckles were pure white. He released it in a single jerky motion, and grabbed a shotgun shell from the messy pile in the other corner of the table. 

He’d heard tales of this being done before - from Nogla, so it’s probably bullshit - but he didn’t have a lot of other options. 

Using his teeth, Evan broke the casing, exposing the gunpowder within. He sunk lower into the chair so his wound was level, and dumped a bit of the gunpowder into the wound. 

As he grabbed the candle, Evan swore up and down that Tyler was going to get a firm slap in the face from him when this was all over. 

Then he pressed the flame into the wound, and cried out from the overwhelming  _ agony _ that threatened to melt his fucking brain. 

His moment was broken by voices coming from above the cellar, having drawn attention by his whining. 

Evan shoved himself out of the chair, grabbed the file, and waited by the stairs. 

“What the fuck?” One of the Blevins’ boys came running down the stairs with a lantern swinging wildly. “He’s gone, get Ty-” His words were interrupted as the file pierced his throat, and he fell to the ground in a limp pile of dead idiot. 

Evan searched him, and came up with only three throwing knives. Oh well, he’d bring them back to Scotty in exchange for the ones that Blevins most certainly took. 

He surfaced from the cellar, pressing himself against the wall as two more men passed by. They didn’t notice him, and Evan breathed a sigh of relief. 

The sky was dark, and more beautiful than Evan could ever remember. The stars were bright and sparkling, as if encouraging him.

The cellar was next to a shed, with only a couple other ransacked structures making up wherever they were camped out. 

Evan’s horse was still there, hitched to a fence on the other side of the camp. A campfire was lit, and a few tents were between him and his horse. A few guards were patrolling, but the camp was otherwise quiet. 

He weighed his options, and decided with a twinge of regret that just felt like more pain that he would have to leave his weapons behind. He couldn’t afford to find them right now. 

He crept from structure to structure, body screaming at him from being crouched for so long. It was difficult to gauge how much distance he’d covered, but it didn’t matter. 

His mare, his loyal mare, spotted him. She pranced a little, impatiently yanking on her reins and neighing gently at him. 

Uncaring of the attention he might draw, Evan broke into a sprint to get to her. He felt a rock dig into his bare foot, most likely cutting through the flesh, but it was just one more on the list of injuries. 

He practically jumped up onto the saddle and kicked harder than he meant to, but his mare got the idea; she bolted out of camp, going faster than she ever had in her life. 

Evan tried his best to pay attention to where they were, but the surroundings were unknown and his vision was pulsing with every beat of his weak heart. 

His mare whined as she barreled straight into someone - a Blevins, most likely on patrol - but no one came after them. 

“Go on, girl, get me home,” Evan pleaded, leaning further over the saddle than he should. He was just so very tired, exhausted in every sense of the word. 

He trusted his mare to take him far from danger; even if she didn’t get him back to camp, anywhere was better than here. He made sure his feet were firm in the stirrups, and the reins were secure around his arm. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall off. 

He just needed a quick nap, and he’d be right as rain. 

The jostling off his horse was better than the momentum of being upside down.

Evan was awoken rather rudely by falling off his horse. The impact stole what little breath he had, and knocked his head rather painfully; his vision blurred, and he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

“Evan?” A shrill voice pierced his ears, and a headful of brown hair invaded the image of the blue sky he’d been admiring. 

“Shit, it’s Evan!” Another voice, more firm this time, accompanied by a flash of silver hair. “Help me get him up!” 

A pair of arms each hooked under his, lifting him up from his rest on the ground. 

“Ev?” 

Evan’s vision solidified into a mostly identifiable image; Tyler’s worried face, checking him over for his various injuries. He took a single look at his shoulder, and yelled back at the camp, “Miss Simone! We need you!” He took over for the person at his left, and carried him into the camp proper. 

“It was a trap, you dumbass,” Evan muttered, trying to get his feet off the ground. They seemed content to drag, though. 

“What?” Tyler sounded like that was the furthest thing from his mind. 

“It was a  _ trap _ ,” Evan stressed, nudging the person to his right - Kelly, his brain supplied - searching for agreement. “They got me, but I got away.” His words were slurred horribly, his mind fried from the past however long it’s been. 

“Yeah, you did, you got away,” Tyler reassured him. 

Then Evan was being pushed onto something soft. He let out a hum as he sank into the comfort. The smell of home surrounded him: Tyler, and Jonathan, and a little bit of gunpowder. And blood. Too much blood. The ferrous odor made Evan’s nose wrinkle. 

“It’s okay, Ev,” Tyler told him. He stepped away to make room for Simone who had come in carrying what seemed like their entire stash of medical supplies. “You’re safe now.” 

“That’s pretty, Ty,” Evan snorted, then winced. “That’s really pretty. Where’s Jon?” There was a distinct lack of the other man that made him complete. 

Tyler sighed, reaching a hand down to card his fingers through Evan’s hair. It was greasy, matted, and pretty gross. But he was just so relieved. “He’s out, but he’ll be back soon. I promise.” 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Simone promised him. “Tyler, will you go get a basin for me? And send in Kelly, I’m going to need all the help I can get.” 


	23. gets worse before it gets better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan's healing process. All around, not too bad.

“I’m sorry, the hell did you want?” 

Jonathan barely refrained from stomping his foot against the wooden floor. “Are you dear, what the hell?  _ Ice _ , I want ice. You have that here, yeah?” 

The bartender looked more and more confused by the second. “So you don’t want a drink? You just want ice?” 

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, why is that so difficult for you to understand? Give me two pounds of ice,  _ please _ .” 

“Okay, Jesus, just calm down. I’ll get you your ice, meet me out back.” 

Jonathan forced his hands away from his holsters, and went to meet the moronic bartender at the back of the saloon. He had to wait a few minutes, the length of each felt a lifetime and was enough to make Jon seriously consider murder.

Then the bartender came out the back door with a metal bucket filled with ice. 

Jonathan said nothing, just slapped five dollars into the man’s hand and took the bucket from him. “Expect me every day,” He said, half a threat, half a warning. “Around this time.” 

“Same order?” 

“Yes.” With a huff, Jonathan stalked down the streets of Rhodes, sneering at anyone who dared to look at him. 

His current image was startling enough that everyone quickly averted his eyes. He knew he looked like shit; deep dark circles under his eyes, the color of bruises, an all-around sickly pallor, and messy hair. 

But the moon would drop from the sky before he gave a shit. There were more important matters at hand.

As he made his way to his wagon, he saw Lanai sitting on the bench, smoking a cigarette with her hat lowered over her eyes. 

Jonathan said nothing as he got near, just ever so delicately slammed the bucket of ice onto the wagon with enough force to make the entire thing rattle. 

Lanai jumped about six inches in the air; her glare worsened as his smile gave way to crazed laughter.

“You’re an ass,” She muttered, picking up the reins after her companion climbed up beside her. 

Jonathan let out a few more chuckles, then quieted down as his mood grew more somber. “So you got the stuff?” 

Lanai nodded curtly. “Everything on Simone’s list. We have enough bandages to last us several lifetimes. It all cost us a pretty penny, too.” 

“Good thing we robbed a fucking bank, then huh?” Jonathan snapped. 

“Easy,” Lanai scolded him gently. She was used to his mood swings by now and took it in stride. “He’ll be okay.” 

“He better be.” 

Simone dumped the cloth into the basin of lake water and ice and wrang it out with more force than necessary. She dabbed Evan’s forehead with it, clearing away the sweat that had gathered. 

It was a worrying amount. Everything about Evan was worrying. 

He hadn’t woken up yet. It’d already been a day and a half and nothing had changed. 

Over forty-eight hours of constant fear gripping tight at everyone’s heart had temperaments worn thin throughout camp. All it took was a random cough, maybe a rogue sneeze, and a fight would break out. It hadn’t been this tense in  _ years _ .

Simone’s hands shook as she dabbed the cloth over Evan’s forehead again.

He let out a small groan, one of many disconcerting noises he’d uttered in his restless state. His body was hurting beyond what it was used to.

Simone had sent Lanai to get some laudanum from the doctor in Rhodes; she eyed the tiny brown bottle with fearful hesitance. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t give any to him in his current state. Evan would need it later, if he woke. 

Simone pinched herself.  _ When _ he woke, not if.

She’d have to put off dosing Evan with the laudanum for as long as she could. Stuff was more addictive than anything. The good shit always was, she thought with a huff. 

She startled when there was a knock on the tent post. She whipped the damp cloth at the intruder, only stilling when she saw who it was. 

“Shit, that hurt,” Marcel whined, rubbing at his arm where some redness was starting to peek through from her hit. 

“You startled me,” Simone said simply. She resumed her ministrations, dipping the rag into the basin and wringing it out. 

“Let me.” Marcel took the cloth from her, gently pushing her hands away. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself since he got back.” 

“Evan is the priority here.” 

“And you can’t take care of him when you’re letting yourself waste away.” Marcel began gently wiping the cloth across Evan’s forehead, just as she did. “I can take care of him for a bit. Go get something to eat, and then go to bed. You really need it.” 

As much as she wanted to protest, she knew better. Evan would need all her energy when he awoke. With a reluctant sigh, she nodded. She stood up, giving her chair over to Marcel. “There may be some substance to your assumptions,” She admitted. 

Marcel gave her a tight grin. “You always bring out your pretty words when you’re wrong.” 

“At least I can admit when I’m wrong, unlike you. You merely shout louder.” 

“Hey now, sometimes it works.”

Simone shook her head. Despite living among them for years, sometimes she never understood her male counterparts. “Thank you,” She said softly before leaving the tent. 

The sun hit her harder than it should, attesting to her current state. She felt weak and dizzy by the time she made it over to the kitchen area, and she was practically falling asleep into her stew as she attempted to eat. 

Lauren had to walk her to her tent, holding her steady all the way. She slept for ten hours straight, and when she woke up, she was told there hadn’t been any change.

It seemed hopeless.

Jonathan did his best to hold in tears as he and Tyler propped Evan up into what could be considered a sitting-up position. He didn’t cry as he brought a bowl of warm broth over, nor did he cry as he brought spoonfuls up to Evan’s mouth, praying with every bit that he wouldn’t choke on bits of herbs sprinkled in, courtesy of Chrissy combing the woods for anything she hoped would be useful.

They needed to give him  _ something _ so he would have the strength to fight the infection, Lauren had reminded them.

Jonathan’s hands were shaking, so bad that he dropped the spoon into the bowl. Broth splattered a little, getting mostly on him but a little on Evan’s hand. Jon wiped it off with his thumb, and startled as something else fell on the blanket. 

Only then did he realize it was a tear. He was crying. 

He hadn’t cried in years. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tyler was there to console him; he took the bowl and spoon away, and gathered Jon in his arms. He was steady against the maelstrom in Jon’s mind. “You’re okay, he’s okay, we’re all okay, love.” 

Jonathan didn’t move; he just stared at Evan’s hand, ignoring the tears scorching paths down his cheeks. He reached out, taking the unmoving hand in his own; it was cold, as if he had already passed onto the afterlife. 

Jon choked on a sob. “W-what if he doesn’t…” He couldn’t finish his question. He didn’t need to. 

“He will.” Tyler was firm and confident, gentle and persuasive.

Jonathan wanted so badly to believe him. He wanted that faith, that pure and unadulterated belief (though he knew it was more than likely being feigned to console him) that Evan would wake up.

It happened when Smitty and John were watching him. They were still healing from their encounters with the bounty hunters, and thus confirmed in “solidarity among the injured” when asked if they were fine with sitting with him. 

Smitty had opened up the tent flaps for fresh air, while John had settled in with a book to read to the both of them. He had a nice reading voice, and figured Evan would appreciate having something else to listen to other than grief-stricken conversations. 

“If you’d care to join us in the land of the living, today seems like it’s going to be rather nice,” Smitty said casually, as if he weren’t hurting on the inside to see their beloved friend like this. 

“Maybe you could do something with his hair,” John told him. “It’s getting longer than he normally keeps it.” 

“I won’t cut it. I’ve learned from you, never touch a sleeping man’s hair.” 

“I didn’t mean cut it. I meant braid or something, dearest.”

“Don’t-” 

Smitty whipped around, John stood up so fast his book fell to the ground. Both of them watched, eyes wide and mouths agape, as the man on the bed tried so hard to look at them. 

“Don’t touch…” Evan’s words were slurred, weak, and barely audible. 

But he was awake. 

“Holy shit!” Smitty ran to the opening of the tent, and shouted as loud as he could, “Tyler! Jonathan! He’s awake! Simone, someone, get in here  _ he’s up _ !”

He wasn’t awake for very long. Not even a half hour. 

Yet it was enough for a heavy weight to lift from the camp. They weren’t out of the worst just yet, but it was looking better and better every hour.

That was the first night in over a week that Nogla broke out his guitar. He played the songs he knew Evan liked, even if the man wasn’t conscious to hear them.

It was another six days before Evan was up and out of bed. It would’ve been longer -  _ should _ have been longer - but he was persistent that if he was well enough to bitch and moan about the pain, he could take a damn walk. 

Simone could only push Evan back into bed so many times before the both of them got fed up with the other. It was of little surprise when she dosed him with laudanum to numb it all, and let Jonathan help him out of bed while she took a stroll down to the beach. 

“Fuck you’ve heavy,” Jon muttered as he slung Evan’s arm over his neck, supporting more than his fair share of the weight. 

“I can do it myself,” Evan tried to argue right back, only to nearly crumple to the ground on his first step. 

“Yeah, no.” Jon helped him back up, and together, they ambled out of the tent. 

Evan’s emergence from his tent for the first time in two weeks garnered some applause from their fellow outlaws. With Jon’s help, they made a full circle around camp so Evan could see everyone. 

Well, everyone but Craig. The weasel was nowhere to be seen, but that bothered no one.

They finished their walk up at the beach, where Jonathan deposited a very sweaty Evan onto a log.

“How you feelin’?” Jon asked, wiping away the perspiration from his lover’s forehead for what must’ve been the millionth time. It was different when his lover was awake to watch him as he did it. It set his heart aflame with relief. 

Evan gave him a watery smile. “Like a trainwreck and like a million bucks.” 

“Everyone missed you,” Tyler’s voice appeared at his left, as did the man with a cup of water. He gave Evan a gentle kiss on his cheek, recoiled from the salty sweat lingering on his skin, and handed over the drink. “Here, love.” 

“I would say I missed everyone, but I’ve kinda been out of it, so...” Evan trailed off with a carefree shrug. He downed the water in less than five seconds, and Jon scooted further from him to avoid the possible upchucking of said water. 

But Evan was fine. Tyler sat down on his other side, sandwiching him in close to Jon. Together, they sat there, soaking in the sunlight like lizards after a long winter.

Smitty let out a whoop joy when he finally found their resident invalid, having been searching for the last fifteen minutes all around camp. 

But here Evan was, sitting on a log while Kelly was tending to his hair, a pair of shears snipping away bits of overgrown hair. Hidden towards the edge of camp, sheltered in the shade of the trees.

“You trusted  _ her  _ with that but not my John?” Smitty observed with feign hurt, slapping his hand to his chest in an overexaggerated slap. 

Evan could only shrug. “Kelly knows how I like my hair. John doesn’t.” 

“It’s not that complicated.” 

“You said it yourself, you don’t fuck with a man’s hair. At least, I think I remember you sayin’ something like that.” 

Smitty gave him a disappointed hum, and sat himself down on the ground. Evan had been overdue for a haircut. Hell, he was needing one  _ before _ the whole Blevins debacle. And that was bordering on a month ago by now. 

“Well, when Kelly’s done, would you like to go on a job with me? I do believe I have discovered an untapped resource for opportunities, right here in Rhodes.” 

“Oh God, please.” Evan didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but he was aching to get out of camp. He’d been the perfect patient for so long - resting, sleeping, taking it easy, all the shit he didn’t want to do. He was healed enough to get back into the fray. 

Evan winced, probably from Kelly pulling on a bit of hair harder than necessary to get his attention. “Ty won’t like that.” 

Evan responded with a bone-deep groan that Smitty felt in his gut. 

“I’m just sayin’. You should probably ask him.” 

“It’s been a  _ month _ . I’m gonna rob someone and he can’t stop me.” 

“You do realize he could just hold his hand on your forehead and you couldn’t go anywhere.” 

Evan’s face reddened as he ducked his head, only to be pulled back into position by Kelly’s hand. “Shut up.” 

“Say, Evan,” Smitty began cordially, admiring the scenery around them as they traveled towards Rhodes at an easy canter. “Have you ever robbed a stagecoach?” 

Evan rolled his eyes with enough force to change the rotation of the earth. “No, never,” He drawled. “Why hadn’t anyone thought of that? Of course I’ve robbed a goddamn stagecoach, you know I have-” 

“Yes, yes, stupid question aside. What’s the problem with robbing stages?” 

“The armed men tryin’ to kill you?” 

“Well, sure, but it’s the risk. Is it worth the robbing?” 

Evan shrugged. “Sometimes.” 

“I know. But, John and I have met a fellow who can give you all the decent, robbable stagecoaches a burly outlaw like yourself could ask for!” 

“Well, I could ask for a whole lot.” 

Smitty grinned. “And my friend can provide.” 

When they had finally hitched their horses outside the post office at Rhodes, Evan ignored the side-eyed look from his companion in favor of being nervous from being this close to Rhodes. It felt like a lifetime ago that he was even part of the whole search for a pot of confederate gold at the end of the hillbilly-lined rainbow. 

“Your shoulder feelin’ alright?” Smitty asked as they dismounted. 

Evan shot him a light glare. “I’m fine.” And that was mostly the truth. His shoulder ached, now. A bone-deep ache that he had a feeling would never leave him for the rest of his life. If he didn’t focus on it, it was tolerable. If it caught his attention, the pain was more than a little annoying. 

His grip was faltering, as well. He couldn’t form a first as tightly anymore. If these were the long-lasting effects of his brush with death, he was more than fine with it, though. People have been through less and come out worse for it. And it wasn’t his good arm, so it bothered him little. 

“Alright, well, come on. Let me do the talking, though. Don’t wanna scare him off.” Smitty led the way into the post office, and walked right up to one of the tellers. He was all smiles, friendly demeanor with a put-together appearance, making him seem more aged than he truly was. “Hello, Alden.” 

The teller, Alden, was an older man with impressive facial hair - his mustache curled at the ends - and a solemn face. He perked up as Smitty drew closer, standing a little more attentive at his window. “Well, hello there,” He greeted warmly. “How are you?” 

“I’m dandy, and you?” 

Alden shook his head slowly. “Times are tough, Mister Smith. The missus is an awful woman. A truly terrible woman.” 

“They usually are,” Smitty agreed, though the tap of his thumb reflected his distaste for that statement. “But how’s work, Alden?” 

“Terrible,” The teller spat. “Wages just got cut again and word is they just invented a new horseless carriage that’ll be the end of us.” 

Smitty offered a chuckle. “They’ve been saying that for years, dear boy. Since they invented the wheel.” 

“I know, but still. My comrades and I are greatly discouraged from our adequate fulfillment of our duties.”

“A discouraged man is no man at all,” Smitty mused. “To help, my friend Evan here has a gift for you.” He gave his fellow outlaw a pointed look, rubbing his index finger and thumb together under the window where the teller couldn’t see. 

Evan got the signal and put on his best smile. He dug into his satchel, drew out a ten dollar note, and placed it on the wooden desk between them. 

“Well thank you, kind sir,” Alden said, slipping the money into his pocket with a quick glance around them. 

“Call him Evan,” Smitty said genially. “He’s one of us, you see… a fellow man of distinction.

“And what perfect timing indeed,” Alden said. He brought out his record book, flipping through it haphazardly as he grabbed a piece of paper. “I like you’ll like this one, Mister Smith. It’ll be coming south down River Road, through Stillwater Strand.” He wrote that information down and then handed the paper to Evan. 

“Thank you, Alden,” Smitty raised his hands to Evan’s shoulders to corral him out of the post office when the teller stopped them. 

“If you two are ever out near Strawberry, be sure to ask for my associate there, a feller named Hector. He’s also one of us, a, - uh, what did you call us again?” 

“Discouraged men,” Smitty supplied. 

“That’s it, ‘discouraged men’, I like that.” 

“Well, goodbye, Aden. Or should I say, adieu!” He gave the teller a bow, earning a gleeful smile. 

“Oh, adieu, Mister Smith!” Alden called after them, sounding more joyful than his sunken face should allow. 

Evan waited until they had mounted their horses again to ask, rather loudly, “What the  _ hell _ was that?” 

Smitty just grinned, and urged his horse forwards. “I thought you might like to see that little charade. Anyways, I think I know a spot to wait for this coach, it’s not too far. You up for it?” 

“Of course I am, let’s go.”

They stood waiting, facing a stretch of road running perpendicular to the path they were on. 

“So, you see, there’s a lot of opportunities in this,” Smitty said, gesturing to the piece of paper Evan was reading for the third time. “A lot of tellers are suffering wage cuts from unions and the like, they’re looking for something on the side. Like he said, his fellow in Strawberry would be willing to help you out for a modest fee.” 

Evan scoffed, handing the paper over for his companion to read. “Don’t know if any of us should be going back to Strawberry after all that Craig business.”

“I’m not sure you boys left anyone alive to recognize you, dear boy, I wouldn’t worry. Between that and Blackwater and everything else, y’all are well on your way to becoming infamous celebrities, aren’t you? Soon, you’ll be on the covers of dime novels all over the nation. And dead, of course.” 

Evan scowled. “We’re hopin’ to be long gone by that time. Tyler has a plan.” 

“As do I!” Smitty announced, waving the paper around. “The loot is in a lockbox in the back, according to this. So I put on a performance, and you scurry ‘round the back and unload them of their goodies.” Smitty dug into his pocket, and brought a metal lockpick. “Use this, and keep quiet. I do not wish to need guns for this.” 

“Me either,” Evan agreed, taking the implement. 

The two outlaws perked up as a stagecoach appeared ahead of them. Two men were driving at easy going pace. 

“I’m not proud of what I’m going to do, but you should hang back. Don’t let them see you. I’ll go catch up with them.” 

Evan waited a moment, watching as Smitty went to go ride beside the stage and began some sort of horrible warbling. Evan kept a good bit of distance between himself and the stage, and wished that he had brought earplugs. 

He guessed, somewhere, in some country, that what Smitty was doing could be considered singing. But here, in America, was terrible, off-key, and just in general should be stopped before he hurt himself. 

Then Smitty did stop and struck up conversation with the drivers. They talked about singing, about a show that the outlaw was apparently preparing for, and then a woman’s voice, from inside the coach, peeked into the fray.

A moment later, the coach was stopped. Evan ducked off into the trees lining the road, watching everything happen.

A woman clad in an overly expensive and gaudy dress stepped out of the coach, and let Smitty take her hand and kiss her knuckles. 

Evan dismounted, crouched down, and began creeping towards the stagecoach. He could see the lockbox on the back, all alone and unguarded. One of the drivers had climbed down to smoke while the other kept his eyes on Smitty and the woman. 

Then the woman began singing, and Evan wanted to shoot himself. She was objectively better than Smitty’s garbled attempts, but better only got you so far when you still weren’t  _ good _ .

Evan did his best to block out the noise as he got to work on the box. The lockpick did wonders, and the click of the lock becoming undone was covered well by the pisspoor opera happening less then five feet from him. 

Inside was a silver bar. Evan swiped it and scurried off, heading back to his horse to go back to the crossroads. 

Smitty arrived nearly twenty minutes later, looking beyond exhausted yet pleased. “Well? Was the risk worth it?” 

“I’d say so,” Evan admitted. “Seems Alden knows his stuff.” 

“I only give you the best, dear boy. Now let’s head back to camp, and ease the worries of your beau’s. And I need some tea with honey for my throat after all that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went easy on the poor lad, didn't make him suffer too much. That sweet sweet drama is gonna kick up in the next few chapters, though, so be prepared ;)


	24. should've seen this coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four outlaws go for a short walk in a pretty town. Only three make it out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags but be warned, this chapter does have a character death and some more gore in it. It isn't super descriptive, but it isn't exactly mild either.

Jonathan wasn’t a holy man. His parents had tried their best to raise him as a good Christian boy, they really did. But they had left his life too early, taking his conviction with them. He’d seen too much too young, things he simply couldn’t believe a kind God would let happen. 

But that didn’t stop him from praying every now and then. Never often; Jon could count on two hands how many times he prayed and meant it. 

As he looked over the town of Rhodes, Jonathan immediately felt  _ off _ about the whole situation. Brian had sent for him, saying he had a lead, and that sent a sinking feeling directly into Jon’s stomach. 

So he sent a quick prayer that everything would be fine, and started walking along the red clay streets. 

Brian was with Marcel and Kelly, lounging on the hitching posts in front of the bank. They all perked up as he drew near, with Brian looking the most annoyed with him. 

“We’ve been waitin’ for you for damn near an hour, Jon,” The Irishman told him with a scowl. 

Jonathan spread his arms out. “Well now I’m here. Sorry to have kept you.” He wasn’t really sorry, and it was obvious to the others. 

Brian said nothing, just left the hitching post with the others in tow. “Come on, then.” 

“What’s going on?” 

“We’re going to meet a couple of Gray’s over at the saloon,” Marcel told him, budging up against Jon as they walked. “They spoke to me about a job, said they’re hurtin’ for some extra security.” 

Jon’s eyebrows furrowed. “After we stole their horses from them? Why’re we doin’ this?”

“Cause they’re paying us,” Kelly stressed. “Besides, it wasn’t  _ us _ that did all that, it was the other merry band of idiots.” 

“What one of us does, all of us does. Just because it wasn’t our hands pulling the reins, or our hands pouring the moonshine, or our hands lighting the fires, doesn’t mean we haven’t screwed the Grays’ six ways to Sunday!” 

“Relax,” Brian said, more of a command than a suggestion. “Tyler says we’re to keep dealin’ with them until we get to the gold, so that’s what we’re doin’. If you don’t like it, you can head home.” 

“I just might,” Jonathan huffed. He turned to Marcel, who’d been all too quiet. “This seem legit to you? The hell kinda security do they even want?” 

“That’s what we’re gonna find out.” Marcel raised his hands in defense.

“Can we trust them?” Jonathan rephrased his question. 

Kelly snorted. “I trust anyone down here as far as I can throw ‘em.” 

Brian gave all of them a pointed look. “Let’s just see what they say, alright?” 

Marcel pat Jon’s shoulder to placate him. “Look, the Grays think everything that’s happened has been the Braithewait’s fault, yeah? I’ve been talking to these boys a bit now, this is on their level.”

Jonathan shook him off. “We’re stuck in the middle of some ancient feud, but instead of playing both sides, we’re…” he trailed off, having a look around the town for the second time since he arrived. They were passing the shops now, where people should be lining the streets. 

There was no one around. The town was empty, save for them. 

“Hold on!” He waited until his companions stopped walking. “This don’t feel right,” He murmured. 

Marcel kept walking until he was in front of all of them, and turned around. “Now it doesn’t feel right? I could’ve told yo-” His words were interrupted by a bullet bursting through his head, splattering bits of brain and skull onto the ground.

Men started flooding out from the shops, weapons raised and firing at the stock-still outlaws standing in the street. 

Heart pounding and mind glazing over, Jonathan ripped his pistols out of their holsters, firing away at anything that moved. He downed three men before ducking behind a wagon, vaguely aware of Brian and Kelly somewhere behind him.

“What the fuck -  _ goddammnit! _ ” Kelly shouted, aiming her rifle for the asshole on the roof of the bank.

“You okay?” Jonathan shot two assholes trying to cage him in from the side, then ducked down to reload.

Kelly stood from her cover, taking out four men with clean shots to their hearts. “I can’t believe you shot me!” Her incredulity was matched with her rage, creating a perfect storm of furious outlaw ready to kill. 

Brian yanked her down behind some barrels before running off to slam himself against the side of a building. “Oh, Marcel… you bastards!” He let a hail of bullets storm the front of the grocer, ripping apart the two men inside of it. 

“Is he dead?” Kelly’s voice was hardly audible through the fray.

Jonathan was forced back by an idiot approaching on horseback with a shotgun, but still found it within himself to glare at her. “Fuckin’ look at him, of course he’s dead! How could you not think this was a trap?” He fired twice, downing the Gray before he could even blink. Jon turned around, focusing on the group of men still behind them. 

“You wanna talk about this  _ now,  _ Dennis?” Brian snarled, reloading his rifle as quickly as he could to kill another man on the rooftop.

Jonathan could’ve shot Brian as well. “Do you see a way out of this shitshow?” 

Brian paused his murder spree to truly look around at the mess they were knee-deep in. “No, they got us penned in pretty good.” It pained him to admit it. He should’ve fucking seen this coming. 

Kelly let out another shout, once again leaving her cover to shoot freely. “You Grays are fucking finished, you hear me?” She managed to shout over the storm of gunpowder, probably loud enough to be heard three states over. 

A heavy force landed on Jonathan’s back, yanking him from the building. He swung his elbow wildly, laughing as he felt it connect. 

“It’s me, you asshole!” Brian’s voice cut through his laughter, jerking him harder by his jacket. “They’re in the gunstore, you get the back and I’ll get the front!” 

Jonathan felt a slight twinge of guilt at the blood starting to pour from Brian’s nose, but nodded all the same. He reloaded his pistols and ran for the back door, kicking it open and firing at the two men inside. They were dead before they hit the floor. 

Jonathan made his way to the front, crouching just below the windows as Brian took the other side of the room to do the same. 

“You inbred sonsofbitches!” Kelly spat from somewhere to the left, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Jonathan didn’t worry about that now, instead focusing on the men congregating across the street. “How many are there?” His nerves were getting fried and he was starting to get low on bullets. 

Brian noticed and grabbed a box of bullets off the shelf behind him. He tossed it at Jon, then used the butt of his rifle to break through the window to shoot. “You’re gettin’ sloppy,” He remarked as Jonathan almost dropped the box. 

“You see that window in Marcel’s skull?” Jonathan finally loaded his pistols and pulled back the hammer. “Don’t fucking talk to me about sloppy!” He let loose on the storefront across the street, thoroughly obliterating it and its occupants. 

More idiots on horseback came running down the street, and Jon thought he heard someone mention a broadside, which sent a spark of fear down his spine. A shot went through the window frame, splintering the wood perfectly enough for bits to shoot at Jon, sticking into his clothes. He popped the asshole that did that without hesitation. 

“So maybe the Grays are onto us after all,” Brian conceded as he reloaded his rifle with more stolen bullets. 

“Fucking maybe,” Jonathan fumed. “So much for the loot. We’re getting out of this with  _ nothing _ ,” He accentuated the word with a headshot to some fool on a horse. “And that’s assumin’ we get out of this with our lives!” 

“Of course we’re getting out,” Brian grit his teeth as he aimed for someone down the street. “This is you, me, and Kelly. We always get the job done.” 

Jonathan scoffed. “You call this gettin’ a job done?” He fired off another two rounds, then realized, “You seen Kelly anywhere?” 

Brian waved him off with his left hand while managing to shoot with his right. “She’s gone feral, she’ll be alright.” 

Jonathan downed another three men before seeing that they weren’t firing back. “They’re running away,” He noticed, standing up to get a better look. “Those cowards, they’re running away!” He wasn’t going to let that happen, not on his watch; he left the gunshop, shooting at these scared sonsofbitches. “You don’t get to run away!” He yelled after them, chasing them to the edge of town. “You don’t fuckin’ get to  _ live _ after this!” 

True to his word, he killed the rest of the Grays. He was never above shooting someone in the back, and all those idiots knew it now. It helped soothe the bloodlust still making his trigger finger twitch somthin’ awful, but only a little. 

When he was done, he stood in place, panting heavily and body buzzing with the pure hatred running through his veins. It took a herculean effort to force himself to turn back to the town, where Brian was still standing on the porch of the gunshop and just looking at him with a resigned fury.

Jonathan picked up his pace as he trekked back to the middle of town. “There, that’s all of them.” 

“Not all.” Brian pointed to the ugly gray building that had the gall to remain unharmed after the carnage. He started walking towards it, slow and steady. “Sheriff Gray!” He taunted, leaning his rifle on his shoulder. “You need to get a hold on this town, it’s goin’ to hell!” 

Jonathan’s gaze flickered about, frantically looking for a head of silver hair and hoping that he wouldn’t find it on the ground anywhere. 

“Who do you think you are?” The sheriff’s voice, shaky and cowardly, floated through the shut down. “Some two-bit thugs from God knows where? You’re so dumb to think we don’t know what you’ve been doin’.” 

Jonathan shot Brian a glare, which was ignored.

Brian planted himself firmly in front of the sheriff’s office and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Come on out, Sheriff, it’s over,” He commanded with all the power that the weak Gray could never have. 

“We’ve put down worse than you, a hundred times over! This is the Grays’ town! Always has been, always will be!” 

“The only Grays I see left is  _ you _ !” Jonathan roared, fingers itching to put a bullet through the coward’s fucking forehead. Only that would be too slow a death.

“You want us to come out? We’ll come out!” 

The door was kicked open, but a Gray wasn’t the first to exit; Kelly was pushed through the door, hard enough that she was sent sprawling to the floor. Her shirt was stained red, glistening so violently in the sun that Jon couldn’t tell where she had been shot. Her face was also splattered with blood, but he was confident it wasn’t hers. 

Then the sheriff grabbed her by her hair to pull her back up as three more Grays flooded out from him, lining up on the porch with weapons all aimed directly at the outlaws.

“Guns on the ground, now!” The sheriff demanded as he pointed a revolver at Kelly’s temple. She sneered, but didn’t move. 

“You know we can’t do that,” Brian said casually as if they hadn’t just slaughtered an entire town’s worth of degenerates.

“Put your guns down, Sheriff,” Jonathan threatened.

The sheriff tightened his grip on Kelly’s hair. “I’ll blow her brains out! You want her to join your little friend over there, do ya? Either way, you’re dead men.”

Brian looked over to Jon, manic grin stretching his lips and murderous rage in his eyes. “Jonathan?” His hand lowered, just barely noticeable, to the revolver holstered on his hips. 

The outlaws chuckled, and opened fire.

A lesson that both of them had learned long ago was that if you want to survive as a criminal, you have to have a quick draw. Quicker than just about anyone, to escape a tough situation with your life intact. 

They certainly were quicker than any prick in Rhodes. 

The four Grays were dead before they knew what was happening, leaving the four gunshots to echo around the ravaged town. 

Kelly slumped to the ground, bringing a hand up to rub at her scalp. Brian went to go help her up as Jonathan gravitated towards Marcel’s body. 

He kneeled in the dirt, looking at the hole in his fucking skull. He rested a hand on Marcel’s chest, and felt his heart sink when it didn’t move, confirming what he already knew. “Goddamnit,” He muttered, clenching his first in his friend’s jacket. 

“Well how the hell was I to know?” Brian asked, looking anywhere but their friend’s corpse. 

Jonathan shot up from the ground and glared with the heat of a thousand suns. “How about the fact that they set us up before, they didn’t like us, we torched their farm, should  _ I go on _ ?” His volume raised to a shout, but it wasn’t enough to cover the silence threatening to strangle them.

“I was trying to find a lead! Same as everyone else, same as what we’ve been doing since we got here!” Brian matched his anger perfectly, getting right up in his face. “All you’ve done is complain but you didn’t do shit to change anything! Just whined and bitched like a fucking child!” 

“You sayin’ I should’ve tried to find leads just like this?” Jonathan gestured wildly to the bloodshed surrounding them. “You sayin’ I should’ve tried harder to get us all killed? You want me to just skip a step and off you myself?” 

“Stop it, both of you!” Kelly shoved her way in between them, using her impressive strength to push them away from each other. “This shit’s bigger than anyone of us, so let’s just get the fuck out of here!”

Jonathan glared at Brian for another moment, then conceded. He picked up Marcel’s body, hoisting it over his shoulder and ignoring that it was still warm.

“You can fight, but you can’t think,” Brian told him as he passed by to get to their horses. 

“And you can’t do either,” Jonathan snapped. He gently put Marcel’s body over the back of his horse, making sure he wouldn’t fall off, then mounted up. 

“Boys,” Kelly warned. “Let’s just go home. We need to bury him… and tell Simone.”

That mellowed out the remaining fury threatening to burn Jon alive. “She’ll wanna be there when we bury him.” 

“The whole camp will,” Brian added. He let his horse fall in behind the other two as they left behind the wreckage of what was once Rhodes. He buried his hands into his hair, pulling harshly as he bent over. “Fuck,” He muttered, a breathy word soaking in self-hatred. 

Jonathan felt the same. A look at Kelly proved that she did too. 

They had lost a brother and it was all their fault. 

“Fuck,” Jonathan echoed. 

“Fuck,” Kelly agreed.


	25. ending a bloodline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grays got their due back at Rhodes. Now, it's the Braithewaits' turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is pretty much just violence, so beware.

Brian spent the ride back home lost in his head. 

They would have to move camp after this, no doubt about that. Rhodes wasn’t safe anymore, even with their lawforce decimated. This kind of slaughter wouldn’t go unnoticed for much longer, and soon the Pinkertons would sweep in, vultures that they were. 

So much for laying low. After the smoke signals Craig had lit, Brian had practically built a huge sign proclaiming their location for everyone to see. 

He’d never felt so goddamn stupid in all his life. As penance, he vowed to help out with the moving process until he worked himself to the bone. Simone could take it easy this time around. 

Brian shot a glance to the body situated on the back of Jon’s horse. They had tried to wrap him up in a saddle blanket as best as they could, but the blanket was too small. One of his arms fell from the wrap, bumping against the flank of Jon’s horse with every step. 

Brian let out a quiet sigh. Simone would be heartbroken. 

“What the fuck?” Kelly said under her breath, almost a whisper.

Brian looked up and startled to see that they were already back at a camp. His throat went dry when he noticed some of their family congregated at Tyler’s tent. The air was tense and foreboding. How much worse could tonight get? 

His horse had barely stopped before he jumped off and started running. 

Tyler saw him first, and pushed his way past Craig to get to him. “Brian, Brian - what the hell happened to your face- have you seen Lauren or Simone?” 

Brian shook his head. “Jon elbowed me back at - wait, what?” He looked around camp, and saw worried face after worried face but no Lauren to be seen. Then he saw Brock stalking up to them, looking absolutely  _ furious _ . 

“Where’s my goddamn wife?” He demanded as he drew near, hands clenched into fists and face red with anger. “Where’s my wife, where is she? They took her, didn’t they? They took my wife!”

“Who took her?” Brian asked, blood running cold and chest getting tight.

“I think the Braithewait woman took him,” Nogla offered, coming up to them and pointing back to the woods. “I saw a couple of boys in the woods, they sounded like Braithewaits’ to me.” 

Tyler leveled a bewildered glance at him. “And you didn’t say anything?” 

Nogla raised his hands up, palms to the sky in a crazed shrug. “I didn’t think anything of it, they were far away!” 

“Where is my- if anything happens to her-” Brock cut himself off and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Where is my wife, Tyler Wine?” 

Brian saw everyone else at camp gather around them; their missing three members was painfully obvious. 

“We’ll find her, and Simone, and we’ll bring them back, and we will kill any fool that had the gall to fucking touch any of our family.” Tyler’s voice was steel, cutting against the fear in the crowd with the ease of cutting through butter. “I will get them back, so help me God.” 

He walked past Brock, heading for the horses. 

“Tyler!” Scotty called out, running from his tent with Evan and Chrissy behind him. “We heard what happened, you need extra guns?” 

“Why not?” Tyler’s grin went feral. It smoothed out as he turned behind him. “Ohm, Anthony, if anyone strange turns up, you  _ kill ‘em _ .” He turned back to the horses, and froze. “What is this?” 

Kelly looked up at him, one hand on her side and the other resting on the body still on Jon’s horse. Jonathan himself was standing off to the side, looking worse for wear. 

“The Grays figured us out,” She told him. “We lost Marcel.” 

“No!” Scotty burst through the wall of outlaws to get to the corpse. He froze just before it, and made the mistake of looking at what was left of Marcel’s skull. He stumbled away and into Evan, stopping only to throw up onto the ground. 

Tyler paused for a moment, eyes dropping to the ground and hand clenching as he thought. His gaze flickered to the body, then to the group behind all itching for blood to be spilled. “We’ll deal with him later, right now we have to get Lauren and Simone back. Kelly, Jon, you stay here. Get yourself sorted. With any luck, we’ll bring our doctor back before it’s dark. Scotty should probably stay too.” 

“I’m coming with you,” Jonathan stated, stepping in front of his lover. “No question.” 

“Fine, but we need to go  _ now _ !” Tyler brushed past him and towards his horse. 

Jon scoffed, but met Evan’s concerned gaze with a smile. Evan just shook his head, and patted Scotty’s back to be as reassuring as possible.

“I’m coming too,” Scotty told them, voice strained but resolve firm. 

“Then let’s ride,” Evan said. 

Brian hardly waited for the rest of their group to mount up before setting course for the Braithewait Manor. He edged up against Tyler, taking part of the lead in a swirl of righteous anger. Tyler let him do it, understanding fully well how it feels for the one you love to be kidnapped. 

Course, Brian never said it aloud that he loved the Barrus’. He didn’t need to for everyone else to be aware of it. 

So Tyler let Brian take the lead as the group of outlaws raced out of camp. 

Craig rode alongside Jon, keeping Evan behind them to ride with Chrissy. Scotty and Nogla brought up the rear, and the sound of their horses’ hooves against the ground rivaled the volume of even the greatest of thunderstorms.

It was loud enough that Craig had to shout to ask, “So you lost Marcel, huh?” 

Jonathan shot him a glare. “Yes,” He managed to say through grit teeth. “We were shot to hell back at Rhodes.” 

“We can’t afford to think about that right now,” Tyler told the both of them, the finality in his voice effectively cutting off that conversation. “We have to focus on Lauren and Simone.”

“I swear to God I’m gonna kill everyone there,” Brian threatened. It was obvious in his voice that he intended to make good on it too. 

Tyler reached into his pocket, pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to the Irishman. “Easy, Brian, you need to stay calm.” 

Brian shook his head at the rag, and kept his eyes on the road. “I’m fine.” He was sure he was quite the sight with his nose swollen and face covered in dried blood. But that was the furthest from his concerns at the moment.

“How the hell did they even get taken?” Jonathan asked. 

“They just went out to pick some herbs from the woods and never came back,” Nogla answered, sounding more than a little guilty as if it were his fault. Scotty reached over to pat his back, doing his best to comfort him. 

This was none of their faults. 

“And we’ll get them back,” Tyler added, looking behind him at all of his family. “And we will make these inbred bastards pay, I promise you that.” 

“What about the gold?” Scotty hated that he even brought it up, but he knew it was in the back of everyone’s minds. 

Brian whirled on him. “Who gives a damn about the gold? They have Lauren and Simone!” 

“I hate to say it, but I don’t think there is any gold,” Craig offered. He sounded too remorseful about it, to where it sounded fake. “Or if there is, it’s buried somewhere no one knows.” 

“What?” Evan hadn’t meant to say anything, but the word just fell from his mouth.

“Tyler and I turned over  _ every _ stone. I don’t think there’s any gold.” 

Brian refocused all of his anger on Craig instead. “For fuck’s sake, are you  _ serious? _ After all this? Wonderful, Craig, another brilliant fucking scam on your part!” 

“Listen here, you sack of shit-” 

“Enough talk!” Tyler yelled over the two of them, putting on his leader-voice full force now. “There’s no use in arguing how we got here, okay? This is where we are, so fucking shut up. We’ll fix this.” 

“We better,” Brian muttered.

Night had fallen by the time they arrived. The massive oak trees stood guard against the dark sky, watching as eight outlaws approached with fire in their eyes and rage in their hearts.

Evan wished he could see another way for this all to end. He wished that they had successfully scammed both families. He wished that they were making off with the gold and leaving the degenerate clans to shed each other’s blood. 

But that wasn’t how the cards read. The ground would soon be dyed red with Braithewait blood, as would the hands of the criminals that had stopped at the gate before the house. 

Evan wondered if the Braithewaits knew that this would be their last night on this Earth.

“We’ll go on foot from here,” Tyler’s voice broke the tense quiet as he dismounted his horse. “Come to me, we need to talk.” 

Evan was the first to join him as Tyler stood by the gate with his revolver already poised. A spare ray of moonlight glinted off the metal, mesmerizing in its beauty.

“First Marcel, now Simone and Lauren,” Scotty’s muttering broke the haze in Evan’s mind, bringing him back to the present. “We should have stayed out of this.”

“Bit late for that, eh?” Nogla replied bitterly as they came up to stand behind Evan. 

Tyler looked over their assembled group, eyes lingering on Brian the longest. After a moment, he nodded. “Keep your heads on straight, alright? No one makes a move until I say so. We’re gonna fix this, right now.” 

Chrissy scoffed. “Like they don’t know we’re comin’.” 

Brain pushed forward, shotgun loaded and eyes deadset on the plantation house. “Let’s get this over with.” 

Tyler stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, and stepped into his space to meet his gaze head on. “Brian, are you sure you’re okay?”

The look the Irishman gave him could’ve melted ice. “I’m  _ fine _ .” 

Though he was unconvinced, Tyler relented. He nodded once more, cocked the hammer on his revolver, and began walking, slowly yet with all the power in the world, towards the Braithewait house.

“These two families think they can ruin us?” Tyler scoffed, moreso to himself than to those around him. “I don’t fucking think so.” 

He hardly noticed Evan coming up on his right, and Jon to his left. With the ease of people who had worked with each other for years, who had formed a family against all odds, the outlaws fell into a line as they marched upon Braithewait Manor.

“Who steals a goddamn pregnant woman?” Jonathan asked, checking his revolvers to make sure they were loaded. 

Brian chuckled lowly, a dark and dangerous sound. “I’m gonna let fly at these sons of  _ bitches _ .” 

“I need you to stay calm,” Tyler told him without looking at him. He took a deep breath, and bellowed out, “GET DOWN HERE NOW, YOU INBRED TRASH!” 

Evan startled at the volume, but quickly schooled his expression into something more stoic. 

They all stopped walking, with Tyler taking a couple more steps to meet the men standing on the porch. Brian went to stand by his side, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy Bri,” Nogla said lowly, keeping the other Irishman closer to him. 

Brian shook his hand off with an impatient glare, but stayed in place all the same. 

Just as the outlaws, those Braithewaits were armed. Only three of them were visible, but Evan knew more of them must have been lingering around. 

“What the hell do you want?” One of them called out with a shotgun pointed to Tyler’s chest.

Tyler took one more step forward. “We’ve come for our ladies. You must’ve known we would.” 

A pair of Braithewait’s left the porch to meet him, their ugly mugs twisted into a scowl. “You shouldn’t have messed with our business now, should you?” One of them taunted.

Tyler took another deep breath. “Whatever problems you have with us - alleged, or otherwise - one of those ladies is pregnant. That ain’t the way you do things. Hand them over.” 

“Get off our land,” The other Braithewait snarled. 

Evan watched as more Braithewaits began exiting the house; three took up station on the porch while four of them stood sentry on the balcony, all armed and angry. They look a force to be reckoned with, but Evan knew that he and his family were moreso.

“If you won’t be civilized about this…” Tyler trailed off, and smirked. In a single flash, he drew his revolver and popped both the Braithewaits before him, ending their pitiful lives in an instant. 

The outlaws opened fire, and a tornado of bullets battered the facade of Braithewait Manor.

Evan ducked behind a wagon, wincing as the spot he was just standing was shot to hell. He noticed men moving about the terrace, and aimed for the rightmost one. “Watch the balconies!” He warned, popping one of them just as they were about to fire at Chrissy.

“More fire on the right!” Tyler directed, sprinting up to the short concrete wall shielded the walkway. 

Evan rolled his eyes at his lover’s recklessness, and f

ocused his bullets on the idiots up on the second floor. Some of them decided to hide behind the pillars, but all it took was some patience and a well-timed shot to take them out for good.

The  _ second _ that the balcony was cleared, Brian shouted, “Cover me!” and ran right up the main entryway, shotgun firing off buckshots so fast that it looked like a solid wall of metal ripping apart men and pillar alike.

With Nogla covering him, they finished off the rest of the assholes guarding the house. 

“That was stupid as hell!” Tyler scolded him, rushing up to check Brian over for injuries. When he saw none, pursed his lips and whacked Brian upside the head. “Don’t fucking do that again,” He demanded before turning to the rest of them. “Evan, Jon, with us. The rest of you, watch out for any new arrivals!” 

Craig started directing Chrissy and Nogla around, and Tyler walked up the front door. He kicked it open, splintering the wood and cracking the decorative glass windows. “Find Lauren and Simone” He commanded, stepping off to the side to allow the others to enter first. “And find that Braithewait woman!”

Evan took the left side of the house, Jonathan took the right, and Brian followed Tyler upstairs. 

“Simone? Lauren?” Evan called out, hearing Jon do the same. The names of their missing ladies replaced the cacophony of gunshots, He entered the first room, barely paying attention to anything that wasn’t moving. No one was there, so he moved on to the closed door at the back; it was closed, nothing that a solid hit from his shoulder couldn’t solve. 

The only thing in that room was another Braithewait hiding behind an overturned chair. He was shot dead before he could even raise his gun, and Evan moved on. 

There was a heavy thunk upstairs, followed by a string of curses. 

“Someone get up here and give us a goddamn hand!” Brian’s angered shout crashed down upon them. 

Jonathan beat Evan to the stairs, and the two of them raced up to the second floor.

The upper floor consisted of a single hallway leading out to six rooms, three on either side and a set of glass doors leading out to the balcony. Tyler and Brian were leaning against the last door on the right, heaving and groaning against the unmoving obstacle. 

“It’s barricaded, this must be where they are.” Tyler pushed himself off the door, giving his lovers a pissed look.

Evan was about to say something when gunshots started bursting the wood, sending splinters in every direction. 

“Shit!” Brian shoved Tyler away from it, and they pressed themselves against either side of the door. “Evan, Jon, we’ve got them, go-” 

“Guys, we got more comin’ in!” Craig’s voice broke through the fray, his annoying timber filled with growing anticipation. 

“Go help them!” Tyler commanded, waving them off. 

Evan grabbed Jonathan’s arm and led him out onto the balcony. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jonathan spat, pointing to something in the distance. 

Evan squinted at it, and let out a groan. Coming down the main road, surrounded by men on horseback, was a wagon. And on that wagon, was a gatling gun. Evan shoved Jon over to a pillar, hid behind another one, and shouted down, “Nogla, take out that fuckin’ gatling!”

“Cover me while I do that!” Came the Irishman’s strained reply. He was barely audible over the waves of bullets raining down on them, cutting them off from each other. 

“How goddamn many can there be?” Jonathan asked no one in particular, shooting Braithewait after Braitewait. It seemed like there was an entire army of them, and that it would never end. 

The hail lessened considerably, as the man who was using the gatling now had a sizable hole through his head courtesy of Nogla’s rifle. 

Of course when one went down, another small gathering appeared. “There’s more on the right,” Evan noticed, darting over to that side of the house to take care of them. They had pinned down Chrissy, and it was then that he remembered something special he’d tucked into his coat pocket. 

Past-Evan didn’t know what would happen for future-Evan, but he definitely remembered to pack a couple fire bottles, perfect for every occasion. With a grin, Evan took one out and lit it. “Chrissy, watch your eyes!” He threw the bottle, and grinned when he managed to hit at least four Braithewaits with a splattering of flaming alcohol.

“Thanks, Ev!” Chrissy went right back to shooting, taking care of the remaining men with no problem.

Evan ducked behind a pillar to reload, just as a shot grazed it; the outer plaster crumbled, spraying Evan with white dust and making it difficult to see what the hell he was doing. It mattered little, though. 

Once they saw that they were horribly outmatched, the remaining members of the Braithewait clan turned tail and started running. 

Evan looked to Jonathan, and saw the familiar anger glittering in his eyes; he knew Jon was itching to go after them, but they had more pressing matters to attend to. He wiped plaster dust from his eyes, and said, “Let’s find a way into that room, Jon.” 

After a tense moment, Jonathan finally nodded. He rounded the corner to the set of doors that had remained relatively unscathed through the onslaught. He leaned against them, and waited for Evan to do the same. 

“One, two,  _ three _ !”

The two outlaws slammed against the door, and it gave way with a heavy groan. It had been barricaded with a dresser, which fell to the floor with a thunderous crash. Two men were hiding behind a set of couches, and popped out when the door was busted open.   
Jonathan shot one through the throat, while Evan shot the other through his stomach. He went over to the felled man, pressing his boot to the wound just as Brian and Tyler burst through the other door, upending the bookshelf that had been placed in front of it. 

Tyler didn’t waste a second in breaking down the last locked door. The splintered door swung open, revealing one Catherine Braithewait. Tyler grabbed her, dragging her from the room and shoving her against the wall. Jonathan and Brian crowded around her while Evan stayed with the last Braithewait son, just in case. 

“You want us to kill you too, old woman?” Tyler demanded, cocking his revolver and raising it into the air.

She started to bowl over, face twisted in a grieving snarl. “You bastards!”

Brian pressed back against the wall, leveling his impatient glare on her. “Where are Lauren and Simone? Where are they?” 

Catherine Braithewait sneered at him. “We’ve lived in this house for a hundred and twenty years, and we never had no problems ‘cept for Yankees!” 

“Where are our women?” Brian was quickly losing what little patience he had to begin with.

Braithewait’s gaze landed on the bodies on the floor, and her entire body jerked. “You killed my sons!” 

“And we will surely kill the rest of them if you don’t start talking!” Jonathan threatened, aiming his revolver for the woman’s throat. 

“I know your type,” Catherine Braithewait said. “Common scum.” 

Brian leaned in close, his shotgun pressing into the woman’s stomach. “Where. Are. They?” 

She looked at him with all the anger and confidence of a matriarch that hadn’t had her entire clan slaughtered in the last few moments. “You filth!” 

As if a wire had been cut, Brian snapped. “Alright, let’s get her out of here!” He pulled her from the wall, wrapping his arm around her throat and resting the double-barrel of his shotgun against her back.

“What about him?” Evan asked, gesturing to the hardly-living man still under his boot. 

Without hesitating, Tyler popped the last Braithewait son in the head, earning a pained howl from the matriarch.”Let’s get this hag out of here,” He said, nodding towards Evan. “Any more of her sons to deal with?” 

Evan went out to the balcony to check and surveyed the grounds; it was eerily quiet. “No, I reckon they’re all dead by now.” 

“And you’re sure Simone and Lauren ain’t here?” 

“We searched everywhere!” Brian impatiently, tightening his arm around the woman’s throat as a silent threat. 

“Then burn this dump to the ground!” 

Considering Brian’s hands were full of a thrashing Catherine Braithewait, Jonathan and Evan went down the stairs first to start lighting the place up. Evan took the right side of the house while Jon took the left. 

Evan went right for the fireplace, where several logs were currently ablaze. Using the iron pokers, he swept all the wood out of the mantle, letting it crash onto the rug in a flurry of embers. For good measure, he yanked a sconce out of the wall, using the candles to light up the paintings and curtains decorating the room before throwing it to the floor as well.

He left his side of the house in time to see a man running out of the living room with his clothes flaming. Jon shot him down just as Brian was coming down the stairs, dragging Miss Braithewait by her hair, with Tyler behind him letting it all happen. 

Evan could only watch as Brian bodily threw Catherine Braithewait down the last few by her hair, watching as she hit the floor with a sob. Jon forced Evan to start moving to the front door, while Brian lifted the woman up onto his shoulders and carried her from her burning house. 

“You damn yankees!” She wailed, pounding her bony fists against Brian’s back as they descended the steps and met up with the rest of their gang. 

Brian said nothing, just dropped her to the ground like a sack of potatoes as the outlaws circled around her. She had nowhere to escape, and she knew it. She didn’t even try to get up from the ground, just lifted herself enough that she wasn’t eating rocks. 

“I never liked you,” She seethed, looking from Craig to Evan to Chrissy. “Any of you.” 

“Why’d you take Lauren?” Brian demanded, leaning down so she could fully see the fury in his eyes. 

“You stole my liquor!” 

“She’s  _ pregnant _ !” Jonathan shouted at her. “Pregnant women, hell,  _ any _ woman is off limits!” 

“You stole my horses! Ain’t no rules in war, you filthy thieves!”

Tyler crouched down by her feet, letting the butt of his revolver rest on his knee as he pointed it directly between her eyes. “Where did you take them?” 

Catherine Braithewait bared her teeth at him, and rolled herself onto her back to face all of them better. “My  _ sons _ sold them to Angelo Bronte,” She said, her grief-stricken anger thickening her southern drawl until it was nearly imperceptible. “So my guess is Saint Denis. Either that, or on a boat to Italy.”

Tyler straightened back up, never taking his eyes off of her for a single moment. Brian kept looking between the fallen matriarch and his leader, hoping beyond hope that he would get the chance to kill her. 

Then Tyler looked to Evan, and held his hand out. At Evan’s confused look, he impatiently demanded, “Your fire bottle. I know you have one, give it.” 

Evan reluctantly handed over his last fire bottle. Tyler took it, lit it, then handed it to Brian. He steered the Irishman towards the burning mansion, and said, “Let it fly, brother.”

“What about her?” Brian spat, kicking a wall of dust at the old woman. 

“We’ll leave her, she has nothing left. Just throw that and we’ll be on our way.” 

With a huff, Brian faced the house. It wasn’t nearly as good as putting a bullet between the old crone’s eyes himself, but this would have to. He threw the fire bottle, and watched as it crashed against the facade, sprinkling flaming alcohol all over. 

Without a word, the outlaws walked away. They went for their horses, leaving Catherine Braithewait pitifully alive. 

Evan looked behind him, and watched with muted horror as she pushed herself into a stand, and began hobbling towards her house. 

The only sounds breaking through the night’s quiet was the blaze eating up a house that stood for a hundred and twenty years, and the broken sobs of the last of the Braithewait clan giving herself the same fate.

“Told y’all she was crazy,” Nogla muttered as they began mounting their horses. 

“May she burn in Hell,” Brian snarled.

Evan chanced a look at Jonathan, but found him nodding along to the Irishmens’ words. He looked to Chrissy and Scotty, hoping that they saw how fucked up all that was. They looked satisfied with the night’s events, though. 

He even gave a look to Craig, and wasn’t even surprised to see that he looked pleased as a hog in shit. 

Evan knew that they were all criminals. But this felt like taking it a step too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be a little more spaced out in the future as I am prepping for college and all that good shit. I'll try to be consistent but my brain is just all over the place these days.


	26. the aftermath of a few bad decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Brian suspected, the Pinkertons catch up with Tyler Wine and his gang. Everyone handles the stress a little differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit I've written a lot for this story. Thank you all for reading and for making it this far. I hope y'all have enjoyed the journey as much as I have.
> 
> just as a heads up, there's a few more very minor character deaths in this chapter. Nothing too graphic, but there is blood and gore mentioned.

There was a set of traditions surrounding a funeral for one of Tyler Wine’s gang. The first step was to find a good spot, a nice scenic area where the body wouldn’t be disturbed. A hole was dug, and everyone joined together to grieve as the deceased was placed in the ground. 

Then, one by one, everyone threw a clump of dirt over the body to participate in the burial, helping send their loved one to whatever awaited them in the afterlife. Once that was done, whoever wasn’t too fargone - with either grief or booze - would help to finish off the burial. 

The circumstances were all wrong for Marcel’s funeral. Everything was off.

Simone was still missing. Everyone had seen the budding romance between the two of them. Everyone was rooting for them to get together. Now, it would never happen, and Simone wasn’t here to send him off.

In the end, Marcel’s funeral was minimal. His body had to be buried before they left, it was simply too hot to leave it out for much longer. 

Scotty and Nogla took it upon themselves to give him the best funeral they could. They went and searched for a nice spot in the woods, still by the lake but in the shade, with flowers all around and wildlife fluttering about. 

They buried him without much preamble, and headed back to camp quickly.

The sun was high in the sky, blazing mercilessly down upon the camp of outlaws as they moved about like worker bees, packing away their possessions and deconstructing tents. When hours had passed and the Irishman hadn’t so much as paused to drink some water, Tyler forced Brian to take a break. He’d been working himself to the bone since dawn and would surely pass out if he didn’t stop. 

Brian tried to fight him on it, insisting that they needed to work quickly if they wanted to leave in two days’ time like planned. They had a destination already in mind - Shady Belle, the old plantation house that Marcel and Scotty had discovered - they just had to get there. 

Tyler retorted with “You’re acting like it’s imperative we left this morning. You need to take a damn break.” 

“I’m fine, boss,” Brian said petulantly, scowling with all his might at literally being forced to take a seat at one of the camp tables.

“You haven’t stopped moving for two seconds,” Tyler reminded him. He placed a bowl of dried meat, an apple, and some bread in front of him, as well as a cup of water. “Now eat some lunch before you pass out.” 

Brian didn’t eat, though. He simply looked at the food as if he could make it disappear with the power of his stare. 

Then Evan and Jonathan were sitting down across from him with their own food as Tyler took the last open seat. Once they were all settled, Tyler’s eyes found Brian’s and didn’t move. 

Brian furrowed his eyebrows at him and looked away. 

Evan and Jonathan were staring at him too, their eyes never leaving. They barely even blinked. 

“What the fuck is happenin’?” Brian muttered, feeling incredibly off put by it. 

“We’re staring at you until you eat,” Tyler told him. 

“For fuck’s sake.” Brian quickly grabbed a piece of meat and ripped a piece off, chewing obnoxiously with an open mouth. 

His antics didn’t get the desired reaction of disgust, though. He just got pleased smiles and a small “Good job” from Evan.

As he chewed, Brian found his gaze falling on Brock. He watched as the man kept fiddling with his clothes or the kitchen area or helped others pack up some more - despite everyone else taking a small lunch break. 

If Brian was working himself too hard, then Brock had nearly gone catatonic.

Jonathan had followed his gaze and assured around a mouthful of food, “It’s gonna work out, Bri. You know it will.” 

“If we don’t get his wife back…” Brian refused to think about what  _ he  _ would do, and tried to think about what Brock would do. “He’ll- he’ll kill us all.”

Tyler took a quick drink of water to clear his throat. “Look, thinking on this logically, those ladies are fine. They took them to scare us, nobody takes a pregnant woman to harm her. And Simone wouldn’t let those bastards get so much as a finger on either of ‘em, yeah?”

“Yeah, she’s a right menace when she wants to be,” Evan agreed readily. “But still. We did kill all those people, stirred up a  _ lot  _ of trouble. For nothing, it feels like.” 

“No, not for nothing,” Tyler corrected him firmly. “For  _ living _ . Now, what’re we gonna do? We’re gonna get our ladies back, and we’re gonna get gone. Trust me on that.” 

Instead of saying something he’d regret, Brian shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.

“Hey, Tyler?” Ohm’s uncertain voice wavered over to them, and drew their eyes to the entrance to camp. “We have a problem.” 

The outlaw was guiding two nicely dressed men into their camp by a rifle to their backs. Evan shot out of his chair, hand going immediately to his holster. 

“Not a problem,” The first man, bare-faced and wearing a red hat, told them all with a smarmy grin. “Visitors. A solution.” He made his way closer to the table, gaze flickering over the outlaws sat around it. “Good day, Mister Wine. Mister Hanby, I assume,” He nodded at Brian, then furrowed his brows at Jonathan. “And who are you?” 

“Rip van Winkle,” Jonathan stood with a sneer, hand not-so-subtly resting on his holstered revolver.

Rest Hat merely hummed his disinterest. Then, he saw Evan. “Ah, Mister Fong, good to see you again. Thought anymore on our offer?”

Evan’s jaw clenched. “I really hadn’t, must’ve slipped my mind.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler leveled a light glare at the man. “Who the hell are you?” 

“My apologies,” Red Hat offered with barely feigned disgust. “Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency. This is my partner, Agent Ross.” 

Tyler looked to Evan, silently asking if he recognized them. When Evan nodded yes, he sighed. “And to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Agent Milton looked around what was left of their camp, meeting the gaze of every single outlaw that had gathered around them. His eyes lingered on Brock for just a moment, enough for Brian jerk, wanting to move in front of him but at the same time staying in place.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but this is a civilized land now,” Agent Milton began, eyes landing back on Tyler with utter contempt. “We didn’t kill all them savages just to let the likes of you act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing is done, people.” 

Tyler stood up now, filling the air around them with his presence. “This is no civilized land, no matter what you tell yourself. You just replaced one kind of savagery with another disguised in money and fancy laws.” 

“And you are above that? You face no consequences for your actions?  _ You _ can take what you please, kill whom you please?” Agent Milton scoffed. “Who made you the messiah to these lost souls you’ve led so horribly astray?”

“No one made me a messiah, Mister Milton. I’m just a seeker.” 

“You’re nothin’ more than a killer, Mister Wine. But I’ve come to make a deal with you. It’s time. You come with me, and I give the rest of you three days to run off, disappear, and live like human beings somewhere else.” The confidence with which Agent Milton proposed his deal made Brian want to laugh. 

Tyler too, if the grin on his face was anything to go by. “You risked your soul, coming into this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Well aren’t you a romantic type. Your wife must be a lucky woman.”

Agent Milton’s scowl deepened impossibly. “I don’t wanna kill all these folks, Tyler Wine. Just you.” 

“Then it’d be my honor to die by your hand.” Tyler raised his hands in surrender, and took a step forward. 

Only to be met with the metallic clicks of twenty-some outlaws all readying their weapons, pistols and rifles and shotguns alike all aimed at the two Pinkerton Agents in the middle of their camp. 

“I think your new  _ friends _ should leave, Tyler,” Chrissy jeered. 

“I think they should be put into the fuckin’ ground,” Kelly countered.

A single flash of panic froze Agent Milton in place, but his greasy confidence soon covered it. “You’re making a big mistake here!” 

Tyler looked to Brian, then to Craig, then back to the Pinkertons in their midst. “Yeah, dreadful. We got something to live for and die for, Mister Milton. How terrible for us.” He stepped closer, getting right in Agent Milton’s face and making their height difference - the Pinkerton was damn near a foot shorter - quite humorous. “Stop following us if you value your life. We’ll be gone soon, and it’d be better for everyone if you just give up on us.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Agent Milton told him unkindly. “And when I return, I’ll be back with fifty men, and you will all die. Run away while you can, you fools!” 

“You’ll be entirely too lucky to leave with your life next time we meet, Mister Milton,” Tyler warned. “Now get out.” 

With a final sneer, the two Pinkertons took their leave.

“Evan, Jon, make sure those two idiots find their way out of here,” Tyler commanded, keeping his gaze on the retreating backs of the agents. “Craig, Brian, ride out to Shady Belle and make sure it’s open for us to occupy. We need to leave soon.”

“That spot will only give us a few days, we need more time than that,” Brian argued. 

Tyler shook his head. “No, we don’t. Now get moving. And the rest of you, get packing!”

As Brian and Craig rode out, Evan and Jon followed the Pinkertons on foot.

They watched as Agent Ross and Milton started conversing, their voices lost to the woods around them as they trekked to where they had stashed their horses. 

Evan watched as a knife whirled through the air to impale itself into Agent Milton’s throat, and another got buried hilt-deep into Agent Ross’ back. The two men dropped to the ground like a sack of rocks, and red began to stain the dirt around them. 

“What the fuck?” Evan shouted, whirling on Jonathan. The other outlaw met his bewildered stare head on, his own face blank. “What the fuck was that, they were leaving!” 

“And they would’ve brought an army,” Jonathan replied calmly. “He said so himself.” 

“We would’ve been gone!” 

“Doesn’t matter. These two knew our trail, and with any luck, they were the only ones.” Jonathan approached the bodies to gather his knives.

Evan could only stare. “You didn’t have to do that, you didn’t have to  _ kill _ them.” 

“You’re saying I didn’t have to protect my family?” He scoffed. “With these idiots dead, we get that much more time to get lost. Or to try, anyways. We never seem to be lost for very long.” He bent over to pick up Agent Milton’s body. “You gonna help me or what?” 

Without a single word or glance to his lover, Evan went over and slung the other body across his shoulder. He managed to hold back a grimace as the sudden pressure upset his healed bullet wound, and quickly switched the body to the other shoulder. “Where we buryin’ them?” 

“By the lake. I know a good spot where they won’t be found, at least not for a long while.” 

“You  _ know a spot _ to bury a body?” 

Jonathan merely shrugged. “To be clear, I was savin’ it for Craig. That asshole’s been getting us ever deeper into shit since this started; I’ve been waiting for him to slip up.” He thought for a moment, then shook his head and started walking back towards the lake. “Course, Brian’s not been much better lately, come to think of it.” 

Evan didn’t mention that Jon had literally just murdered two Pinkerton agents out of the blue, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. “Right.” 

“I’ve got somethin’ on my mind I think you can help me settle,” Craig started, doing his best sound amicable. 

Brian’s hands tightened on the reins, his legs squeezing a little more. His horse let out a quick whine, and he forced himself to relax. Briefly, he wondered how much further this stupid plantation house was. “What?” He grit out. 

“You still upset with me? For the burning of the Grays’ land, I mean.” 

“Yes.” 

“Really? Bit ironic, don’t you think?” 

Brian glanced towards the idiot next to him. “How?” 

“I mean,” Craig shrugged. “You did kill all the Grays. And the Braithewaits.” 

“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t stirred up all that shit to begin with.” 

“Like Tyler always says, no use in focusing on how we got to this point, right?” 

“You’re literally trying to pin the blame on me.” 

Craig waved him off. “Forget I said anything.” 

Brian scoffed. “No, I fuckin’ won’t. Look, I can be the bigger man, and admit that I fucked up. ‘Cause I did, I messed up bad. But don’t for a goddamn second think you’re any better than me.”

“Who got Lauren and Simone kidnapped?” 

“Who got Marcel killed?” Brian countered. “The Grays wouldn’t have been pissed enough to kill if you hadn’t burned down their livelihood.” 

The two outlaws glared at each other, a staring competition filled with more heat than the fires of Hell. 

“You played a part in this just as much as I did, you self-righteous cunt,” Brian snarled. 

“Difference between us is  _ I’m _ going to fix it,” Craig told him. “I’ve got a plan.” 

Brian shook his head. “Sure you do. Let’s just get to this stupid house.”

When Evan and Jonathan returned to camp a few hours past when they should’ve, covered in dirt and sweat and dried blood, Tyler was much less concerned than was expected. 

“You killed the Pinkertons?” Tyler reiterated, walking with his lovers as they made their way to the lake to rinse off. 

“In cold fuckin’ blood,” Evan confirmed. “Jon did.” 

Where outrage was expected, relief was flooding. “Good, that’s good, it’ll buy us some more time.” 

Evan was tired and his shoulder was aching something fierce. He couldn’t even care about the lack of shock. 

Jonathan looked pleased. “Exactly what I thought.” 

Tyler looked from them to the camp, hands wringing around themselves as his thoughts flurried on by. “We’re almost ready to move, so get washed off and get back to work, if you don’t mind. I’d like for us to be moving by sundown if possible.” 

“Yes sir,” Jonathan saluted him. 

“Sure, boss” Evan muttered.

“This is the best they could do?” Craig asked, monotone belying just how unimpressed he was with the plantation house facing him. 

Brian wanted to agree with him - it was more than a little rundown, broken in some places, moldy in the others - but since he would then be agreeing with Craig, and that simply wouldn’t do, he merely put on a smile. “It’s got four walls - probably - and what looks like most of a roof. So it’s better than damn near any camp we’ve had in the past.” 

“Nah, do you remember the hotel we stayed at in Ambarino? That was high class livin’.” 

“That was nice. Too bad you and Evan burned the damn place down.” 

“Was pretty funny, though. Here’s hoping he doesn’t burn this place down too. At least, not ‘til we’re done with it.” Craig wasn’t even sure if it would burn, to be honest. The air was so damn humid, the wood was probably too wet to set ablaze. 

“Speakin’ of which, let’s clear it out.” Brian took out his revolvers, and kicked down what was left of the front door.

There were only a couple hillbillies in the house, crouching over a few bottles of liquor on the floor. 

Craig shot them without hesitation, through the chest so their brains wouldn’t splatter over the insides of what would soon be their camp. 

Brian went upstairs, peeking through the rotting panels of wood that made up the walls; some of them had been knocked down and boarded back up with such terrible craftsmanship that the holes in the walls were large enough to crawl through. 

There was only one more person, an older man laying on the bed in what used to be the master bedroom. Brian didn’t even have to kill him - the old coot spouted some bullshit about age catching up to him, and then killed himself with a bullet to the head from a rusted pistol. 

Brian looked at the blood and brain splattered on the walls, and wrinkled his nose. He’d clean that up before anyone took this room. 

Gathering up the body and throwing it over the terrace, Brian bounded down the stairs to see Craig hoisting one body over his shoulders and dragging the other one as he made his way outside. 

“You got those two? Great, you’re doin’ great.” Brian sidestepped him to get outside first and went for the body he’d dropped. 

“You’re an ass.” 

Brian couldn’t deny that, so he just picked up the old coot’s corpse and went to go dump it in the swamp. Craig joined him there after a second, dropping the other two bodies into the murky water as well. 

“Gators eatin’ well tonight,” Brian mused, watching a couple of the green bastards lurking in the distance. 

“Someone should,” Craig muttered.

Tyler checked his pocket watch, and with a sigh, read the time: 3:36 in the morning. It’d been damn near seven hours since the rest of the gang had arrived at the new camp, and no one had taken a single break while they worked themselves to the bone getting everything into working order. 

The only silver lining of this terrible day was that he now had a real  _ bed _ to look forward too. A bed that was half-eaten by moths and definitely less than adequate for people, but it was a bed all the same. One that he could share with his lovers. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Kelly yelled, loud enough for her voice to reverberate around the trees surrounding them. 

Various outlaws gravitated towards the campfire, most of them looking dead on their feet, much like how Tyler felt. Kelly and Chrissy had taken up food duty, leaving Brock to pace the perimeter of camp while Brian never strayed too far from him. 

As Tyler received three portions of dinner - various dried meats and fruits, along with a can of corn and three forks - he went to go find his lovers.

Evan was helping set up Brian and Brock’s tent with Scotty, and quickly abandoned that task with the promise of food. Together, he and Tyler went into the main house to search for Jon. 

The third of their trio was ransacking various crates that they had stored in their room, cursing up a storm when what he needed continued to evade him.. 

“The hell are you doin’?” Tyler asked, amused as Jon ran his hands through his hair for what looked like the hundredth time. 

“Looking for my fuckin’ gun oil!” Jonathan shot them both a wild-eyed glance before continuing his search. “I need to clean my revolvers.” 

Tyler scoffed and went about setting all the food down on their bed. “That can wait until the morning, love. Come eat something.” 

“Fine, fine.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. The three lovers were all too tired to make conversation, and too busy eating after hours of hard work to even bother. 

Very soon, they were all done. Evan began gathering the plates and forks without a word, disappearing downstairs to bring them to the washbasin. 

Tyler and Jonathan began getting ready for bed; relieving themselves of their holsters and many layers of suffocating clothes, finding quick relief against the overbearing humidity of the swamps.

Tyler was very seriously considering sleeping naked given how awful the heat was. But given that emergencies happened more often than he would like, he stayed in his union suit. 

He sat down on the bed and watched as Jonathan gave his revolvers a quick wipe down, unwilling to let them be so dirty for so long. 

When Jon finally finished, he made to get on the bed, but paused. 

Tyler, who laid down by that point, craned his neck to look at him. “What’s up?” 

“Evan isn’t back yet.” 

“Then go look for him,” Tyler murmured, exhaustion sinking its hooks into him. He rolled over onto his side, and damn near fell asleep instantly. 

Jonathan huffed as he left the bedroom. He crept down the stairs as quietly as he could, and still winced every time the century-old floorboards creaked under his bare feet. He stayed close to the walls as he meandered through the house, looking for Evan. 

He saw Kelly and Chrissy sharing what was left of the couch, with Lanai and Aliyah on the floor in front of the collapsed fireplace. 

He left them all be, and went into what was left of the kitchen. Sure enough, there Evan was, eyes closed, one hand holding onto a lit cigarette while the other massaged his left shoulder.

“You okay?” Jonathan asked softly as he leaned against the wall. 

Evan cracked an eye open, then quickly closed it. “Just fine.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. You comin’ to bed soon?” 

Evan shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t wait up on me, go get some sleep.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Go to bed, Jon.” 

Jonathan gave his lover one more look, but realized it was a lost cause. Evan was upset with him and Tyler, and wouldn’t be coming to bed with them. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it most likely be the last. “Just… please get some rest too.” 

“I will,” Evan waved him off with the cigarette. 

With a final sigh, Jon left. He went back upstairs to Tyler, who’d managed to sprawl out on the bed and snore loud enough to damn near shake the frame. It took longer than he would like, but eventually he fell into a dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of an abrupt ending for this chapter, but I got tired. This chapter dragged on more than it probably needed to but oh well.


	27. a real, bona fide city

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler and Jonathan investigate the city of Saint Denis, and they do not have a good time.

It was Tyler who awoke first. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, he rolled away from Jon - the man had burrowed into his side sometime during the night - and as gently as he could, rose from the old bed. 

Just as he had suspected, sleeping on a bed after months of a cot was damn near heavenly. Even if the heat was still stifling at night, he wished Evan was there to share it with him and Jon. However, it seemed as if the silent treatment would be staying for now.

Deciding to let Jon sleep in a bit more, Tyler got dressed as quietly as he could and left. He cursed every groan of every stair, and made it to the bottom floor with a sigh. 

“Mornin’,” Kelly said, sweeping by him. She paused just long enough to press a mug of coffee into his hand and then went outside. 

Tyler could only stare after her as his sleep-muddled brain struggled to keep up. 

“Good mornin,'' someone else greeted from behind him. 

He turned to see Chrissy, sipping from her own coffee as she gave him a pointed look. He took a long drink before asking, “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” 

She said nothing, just jerked her head towards the couch. 

Tyler followed with his eyes, and saw a pair of socked feet propped up on the arm of the couch, with a pair of very familiar boots resting on the floor by them, the rest of the man who owned them obscured by the tall back of the worn furniture.

“We found him asleep on the kitchen floor,” Chrissy told him with exasperation edging her tone. “Everythin’ okay between you three?” 

“It’s... been a rocky road for everyone,” Tyler said, not wishing to say more. 

Chrissy took his tone for the warning that it was, and evacuated the house to go about her morning. 

With a sigh, Tyler continued to stand there, at the foot of the stairs, and drink his coffee. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the gang outside, unpacking whatever was left and attending to the daily chores. 

When his cup was drained and he felt a little more human, Tyler wandered over to where Evan was still dead asleep on the couch. 

He was sort of sprawled over the length of the furniture, feet propped up with his arms hiding his face from the light. He snored lightly, and didn’t stir from the creaking floorboards as Tyler neared him. 

Tyler debated waking him up, then figured he should do so when he had coffee to give for it. So he quickly left, found the new camp kitchen setup just outside the main house, poured a fresh mug, and returned. 

He crouched down so he was level with Evan, and gently shook him. 

Evan let out a groan and stretched. His bones popped several times - all of which sounded beyond painful - but he just sighed and finally cracked open his eyes. When he saw who had woken him up, a tiny smile began to stretch his lips before it was quickly replaced with a scowl.

Tyler wished he could be surprised, but he wasn’t. It hurt all the same. Silently, he handed over the coffee. He stood to go lean against the wall, giving Evan his space. 

Evan pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing when the pressure made his shoulder twinge. 

“You okay?” Tyler asked. “Your wound still fussin’?” 

“I’m fine,” Evan answered him. “Just a lingering ache, is all. Happens when you take a slug to the shoulder, you know.”

As if Tyler needed a reminder about that horrible time. “Right.” 

The two of them fell silent, one staring at the floor while the other took slow sips of coffee.

When half of his cup was empty and the quiet was damn near unbearable, Evan looked back up. “Did you need something else?” 

So many things, Tyler wanted to say. Assurance would be a good start, but he settled for, “I’m gonna head to Saint Denis today, see if I can find this Angelo Bronte bastard. Wanna come with me?” 

To his credit, Evan at least pretended to think about it. “No, I think I should stay here. Watch out and make sure no Pinkertons come avenging their fallen brothers. Take Jon.” 

“He made the right move,” Tyler said before he could help himself. “They knew where we were camped, they  _ told us _ they were gonna kill us all.” 

“We would’ve been gone.” 

“Evan-” 

“Tyler.” 

“He did what needed to be done.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Tyler pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room in a flash, wrapping Evan’s hands in his as he loomed over him. “ _ Why _ are you suddenly so opposed to everything we do?” 

Evan stood up, knocking his mug to the floor and yanking his hands from Tyler's. “Because all we do anymore is  _ murder _ . How many fucking people have we killed in the last few days alone?” 

“They were horrible people, they didn’t deserve to live.” 

“And we do? That’s rich, Ty.” Evan sidestepped him, heading for the back door. “It’s too early for this conversation, so just… have fun in the city. Bring me back a souvenir.” He let the door slam behind him, leaving Tyler alone in the living room. 

Then the stairs began creaking, and Tyler sighed. 

“He still unhappy?” Jonathan asked, though it sounded like he knew the answer. 

“Quite. He’ll come around, he always does.”

“Sure.” 

“In the meantime, wanna ride with me to Saint Denis?” 

Jonathan shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“There she is,” Tyler remarked bitterly as he slowed his horse down to a stop. “The Eighth Wonder of the World, Saint Denis.” 

Jonathan wrinkled his nose at the sight. 

A city loomed before them, separated from the wilds by a brick wall topped with a wrought iron fence. Industrious pipes rose far from the buildings below, emitting clouds of noxious black fumes into the sky. From this side, everything was dirtied and slick and otherwise repellent. 

The sight of a cramped city squashed between four brick walls made Jonathan’s chest tighten and his thoughts turned to the wide, open fields of the west. He craved fresh air that wasn’t bogged down with humidity, smoke, or the stench of too many people. 

“A real city, huh,” Jonathan commented dryly. 

Tyler seemed to share his sentiments. “Yes well, we’ll only be here temporarily.” He nudged his horse into a walk, and the two outlaws entered what seemed to be the more industrious side of the city. “Start askin’ around for Bronte, but keep it low-profile. Saloons and such, you know the drill.” 

“We splittin’ ways?” Not that Jonathan had a problem with that, but with so much area to cover, he was hesitant to separate. 

Tyler sent him a reassuring smile. “I’ll find you, don’t you worry.” 

Jonathan nodded, and the two of them split; Jonathan went north while Tyler went east, and together, they descended upon Saint Denis.

Jonathan’s impression of the city didn’t change much as he passed through the streets. Mud paths that trudged alongside train tracks changed into cobbled streets, factories of various types turned into stores slammed up against each other, dirtied workers desperately seeking a break changed into well-dressed socialites that turned their noses as Jon passed by. 

It was suffocating, being in a city. 

Jonathan stopped at the first saloon he saw. It was a real hole-in-the-wall type establishment, of the sort one would find in small towns like Valentine. He hitched his horse and walked right on in. 

There were less than five other patrons - it was relatively early in the day, after all - and they occupied booths along the windows, leaving the bar itself was empty save the tender. 

“Whiskey, please,” Jonathan asked of him, taking the seat furthest from the door. 

“That’ll be a dollar, sir.” The bartender told him as he poured a finger of liquor. 

“Dollar?” Jonathan repeated. He dug into his satchel for the bill, throwing it onto the bar to receive his drink. “It’s a quarter out in the country.” 

“Well, that’s the country. This the city, we got taxes to pay.” 

“Guess you do.” Jonathan saluted the man with his drink, and downed it easily. “So what kinda fellow runs this city?” 

The bartender huffed. “Mayor Lemieux, though I can’t really say if he  _ runs _ the city so much as tells her how to spend her money.” 

“If the mayor don’t run the city, then who’s in charge?” Jonathan leaned forward, tilting his empty glass towards the man. “Is it one Angelo Bronte?”

If the way the bartender paled was anything to go by, Jonathan had hit the nail right on the head. Then he was shaking his head the way a rabbit shook in the cold. “N-no, sir. Ain’t no Bronte fellow around here, you best stop that talk.”

Jonathan took the hint. He nodded to the bartender and took his leave.

The rest of his morning was spent like that - asking after Angelo Bronte and receiving only hushed warnings against him. Shop after shop, passerby after passerby, Jonathan asked over and over and got jackshit in return. 

He even found a small market of sorts, squashed in between some buildings and filled to the brim with people, many of them non-English speakers. They were mostly selling food, but some sold animal trinkets and clothes. Asking around there just earned Jon a headache. 

Eventually he came across a saloon that was more centered in the city; it was on the corner of a large street that had a trolley track running through it, with large houses on one side and extravagant shops on the other. 

The wealthier sector of the city was so completely different from the industrious bit that it damn near gave Jonathan whiplash.

Just as he was about to enter the saloon, he heard the click of a hammer, and the cool metal of a barrel press against his skull. 

“Stick ‘em up, cowboy,” A gruff voice demanded behind his ear. 

Jonathan jerked his elbow up, aiming for the wrist of his assailant and meeting air and  _ laughter _ . 

He turned and glared. 

Tyler doubled over, one hand on his knee as he continued to laugh. 

“Very funny, Ty,” Jonathan drawled. 

Finally, Tyler straightened up, still caught up in the occasional chuckle. “I thought so too.” He holstered his pistol and jerked his head towards the saloon. “I heard this was a hotspot to ask around for Bronte, and that’s pretty much all I got. No one here wants to talk about him, it seems.” 

“Yeah, I haven’t got shit.” 

“Then here’s hopin’ you do better than me in there. I’ll wait outside.”

The instant Jonathan opened the saloon doors, all eyes were on him. Well-dressed ladies and gentleman alike staring at him like he grew a third arm and started beating their children with it. 

As soon as the unwanted attention had come it fled, and conversations began to flow freely once more. 

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief, and went to the bar at the back of the crowded room. He waited in between two gentlemen while the bartender, an older colored gentleman - the only colored man in the bar, it seemed - talked with a patron. 

Jon waited patiently, taking the time to roll his shoulders; the city was taking its toll on him, making his bones ache. 

Finally, the bartender finished up his conversation and moseyed on over. “What can I get ya’ today? You look like a whiskey man.”

“You’d be right.” Jonathan saw a menu on the counter, and wasn’t even surprised to see the whiskey was two dollars. He wasn’t pleased about it, however. He placed the bills on the counter and took his drink with a scowl. 

“It’s the good stuff, sir, worth every penny,” The bartender promised. 

Jonathan, who couldn’t give a shit about the quality of the booze if it got him drunk all the same, drank the shot. It went down smooth, which was a pleasant change that still didn’t excuse the price. “Pardon me, but can I ask you a question?”

The bartender smiled. “Of course, sir.” 

“You know a fellow by the name of Angelo Bronte?” Jonathan was done with being subtle. 

“No, sir, no one in this city by that name. You best leave it alone.” The bartender’s cheery disposition had melted, replaced with trepidation. 

Jonathan simply nodded, resigned to never getting an answer. He left without another word, exiting the crowded saloon and breathing in the fresher air. He spotted Tyler sitting on a bench across the street and made his way on over. 

“All these motherfuckers are too scared to blab about this Bronte guy,” Jonathan complained as he drew near. 

Tyler patted the bench for him to sit down. “Seems we found a right ol’ boogeyman.” 

“I hate it here.” 

“We’ll be gone soon.” 

“Will we?” Jonathan turned to face his lover. “What’re we doin’ here, Ty?” 

Tyler blinked at him. “Looking for Bronte.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Tyler was saved from having to reply by a strange man coming up to them, holding a glass to his chest and stumbling. “W-were you the man looking for Angelo Bronte in that there bar?” He pointed to the saloon across the street, sloshing his drink as he did. 

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the drunken man. “Who’s asking?” 

“No one, no one at all. But there’s some kids in that alley there,” He pointed to an area off to the right of the saloon. “They know where Bronte is. He’s got this city in his pocket, he does, but I ain’t scared of him. ‘Least, not ‘til I get a few drinks in me, know what I mean?” 

Jonathan shared a glance with Tyler, then nodded at the stranger. “I get ya’. Thanks for the tip.” 

“You just be careful, sir, you hear me? That Italian, you can’t trust ‘im, not a bit.” The drunken man raised his drink to them, and staggered back into the bar from where he had emerged.

Tyler stood from the bench and stretched his arms above his hands. When his shoulders popped, he grinned and offered a hand to his companion. “Shall we?” 

Jonathan took his hand and stood. “I suppose.” 

The alley directly beside the saloon led to a courtyard of sorts, with tables and chairs set up in a nice little shaded area. Vines grew up the walls of the buildings surrounding them, and shrubs decorated nearly every corner. It was picturesque and pleasant, and ruined by a seated couple arguing about words.

Tyler and Jon skirted around them, heading for a tunnel of sorts that ran alongside the back of the courtyard. 

The tunnel spat them out into a little circular area with a fountain that had gone green with disuse. Little stone angels dotted the four cardinal directions, each a fat little baby with wings.

The two outlaws left through a metal gate that was absolutely conquered by more vines, and found three children leaning against the alley walls, as if waiting for them.

“You got a cigarette, misters?” The shortest boy in a striped blue shirt asked them. 

“Maybe,” Tyler said. “But we’re looking for an Angelo Bronte. We were told you know him.” 

“Oh I know him,” Another boy, wearing a shirt so dirtied that it was hardly still red, told them quickly. “Everyone knows him.” 

Jonathan huffed. “So where is he?” He kept his eyes on the third boy in a white shirt that had circled around their backs. 

“We can take ya to him, but it’ll cost ya,” Blue Shirt said.

“How much?” Jonathan asked as he smacked White Shirt’s hand away from his satchel. 

“Five dollars.” 

“Where does he live, New York?” Tyler demanded.

Blue Shirt raised his hands unapologetically. “I’m an entrepreneur, what can I say? You don’t wanna pay, I don’t wanna walk.” 

Tyler rolled his eyes so hard they might fall out, but handed the money over. “Hustled by a brat,” He muttered to Jon. “Well come on.” 

Little Blue Shirt began to lead them away, speaking cheerfully in his squeaky voice about the city of Saint Denis. His two companions followed behind the outlaws as they walked, leaving the alley in favor of a large street that looked just like all the others. 

In no time at all, they were coming to a stop at some old church, modeled after something in Toulouse, France, the boy told them. Just as the boy was detailing how everyone in the city was Catholic, Jonathan felt the strap of his satchel fall free. 

The boys all split up and started sprinting, and Jonathan got pissed. 

“You little shits!” He went after the one with his satchel, feeling Tyler right at his heels. 

The boy hopped up on a wagon, and Tyler whistled for their horses. 

“I’m gonna wring your scrawny necks!” Jonathan shouted after them, watching as his horse barreled around the corner and almost knocked down some poor lady. He didn’t pay her any mind, just mounted up and raced after the tiny thief. 

The man driving the wagon figured out what was happening and stopped, leaving the boy to jump off and start running.

Just when Jonathan thought that they had the little bastard, he jumped up onto the passing trolley. 

“Gotta be faster than that, mister!” The boy taunted, holding Jon’s satchel out for them both to see. 

“I’m gonna shoot this kid,” Jon threatened, not entirely sure if he was serious or not. 

“We gotta get him first,” Tyler said unhelpfully. 

They followed the trolley through the street and down another and had to drag their horses to a stop when the boy suddenly got off and raced down an alley. 

“You lookin’ for that little shit? He went that way!” A passing man told them, pointing to the left of the alley. 

Jonathan nodded at him and followed after the thief. They found their way into another courtyard, this one occupied by three men obviously involved in a shady deal of some kind. They all shut up as the two outlaws passed, eyes squinted at them in suspicion. 

Neither outlaw cared about them, just followed the taunts of the little thief through the alleys and out onto another street. 

“You tired yet, old fellows?” The boy said like the right bastard he is. 

“I’m gonna strangle ya’!” Jonathan threatened, chasing the thief through the street and into yet another alley. 

The boy was quick and knew the city like the back of his hand, but Jon was pissed. He kicked open a metal gate the boy locked behind him, and followed him up some stairs that lead to the wraparound porch of some lady’s house. 

The thief jumped over the railing and onto the slanted roof of another house. Jonathan and Tyler were gaining on him, and the kid knew it. He jumped from the house to the street, and went down yet another alley.

When Jonathan and Tyler followed him, they found themselves smack dab in the middle of the food market. They carefully walked through, keeping an eye for the little thief as they tried to avoid bumping into buyers or sellers around them. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan saw the boy run out from behind a crate of potatoes. He grabbed Tyler’s arm and raced after him. 

He busted through a wooden fence, rounded a corner, and was a dead end and three more boys pointing rifles at him and Tyler.

The thief was sitting down on a crate with a smug grin, while an older looking boy stood off the side. The thief was clutching the stolen satchel to his chest, and panting like a dog in the heat.

Not that Jonathan and Tyler were faring much better; sweat ran down their backs, sticking their clothes to their skin. 

“What’s the problem, friend?” The oldest boy, wearing a plaid shirt and an ugly hat, asked him. 

Jonathan took a deep, burning breath, and leveled his best smile at the boy. “Give me my goddamn things, please.” 

“What’re you talking about, friend?” 

“I ain’t your friend. Now give me my shit and take us to goddamn Angelo Bronte!” 

“ _ Signor _ Bronte,” The oldest boy corrected with a sneer. 

Jonathan resisted the urge to open fire on these pricks. He was certain that between him and Tyler, these kids wouldn’t stand a chance. “This asshole was gonna show us to Bronte before he robbed me.” 

The oldest boy looked to the thief, then grabbed him off the crate and began smacking him around. 

Jonathan shared a look with Tyler; he was getting more and more exasperated every second he didn’t have his stuff. 

“Come on,” Tyler groaned, not wanting to watch a boy get beaten by another. 

Once the oldest was done, he turned back to the two outlaws, a grin pasted on his face. “You new in town, misters?” 

“What’s it to you?” Jon spat. 

“Mister Bronte’s got a lot of friends, but I ain’t never see y’all.” The oldest took a seat on the crate, propping one of his legs up to rest his elbow on his knee. 

“We ain’t his friends,” Jonathan said.

“Y’all don’t like no one, huh, misters?” The oldest’s grin grew a little wider. “Mister Bronte, he got some fine hair, and a beautiful house, and I am  _ proud _ to work for him.” He clasped his hands together as if he were praying. “He got fifty men, misters,” He gestured to the boys around him, all their weapons still pointed at the outlaws. “Why he gonna care a thing about you?” 

“We just wanna talk,” Tyler said gently. 

The oldest laughed and slapped his legs with his hands. “Oh, I sure you do! You two been asking questions all over town, and Mister Bronte, well… he don’t like people askin’ questions. Especially not some muddy Yankees, you see. He been mighty disrespected.” 

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Well if you point us to him, we can stop askin’ and start talkin’.” 

The oldest pointed at him, standing up with narrowed eyes and a smirk. “You got a point there. You should go pay him a visit. He lives in a big house on Flavian Street, opposite the park.” 

“Hey, yokel!” The little thief tossed the satchel back to Jon, who caught it and so desperately wanted to throw it back as hard as he could at the little bastard’s face. 

But Tyler’s hand was on his arm, dragging him away from the gang of children. He led him out through a metal gate, and onto the street. 

“Those little shits deserve a kick to the jewels,” Jonathan muttered, looking at the strap of his bag. The thief had cut it, but it was nothing he couldn’t tie off in the meantime, until he could get a new strap for it. He fixed it up best he could, and slung it back on. It was shorter, and only further irritated him. 

“We got what we wanted though,” Tyler said, always looking for the silver lining. “We got the boogeyman’s address.” 

“So now what?” 

“I’ll go get Brian, we’ll meet you at the house. Shouldn’t be too long before we got our ladies back.” 

“Then I’m gonna go get another drink,” Jonathan clapped Tyler on the shoulder. “We better be movin’ on soon, Tyler, this place is awful.”

Tyler nodded. “Couldn’t agree more. Trust me, before you know it, this place will be nothing more than a bad memory.” 

“Yeah, whatever you say. Just go fetch Brian.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Children can be a real menace sometimes, you know?


	28. robbing the robbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelo Bronte is willing to return Simone and Lauren in exchange for some menial labor. Once the camp gets their ladies back, they're in for a right treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this... another chapter within just a few days?? yes, it do be. I hope y'all enjoy!

Jonathan decided to spend his time at the park across from Angelo Bronte’s house. He settled on a surprisingly uncomfortable metal bench and brought out his revolvers and his gun oil. 

If nothing else, the sight of a man like him cleaning his precious guns was a deterrent to other people. It gave him peace and quiet to analyze Bronte’s house. 

It had three stories, painted dark green to stand out from the pale houses on either side. Well-tended to, and well-protected if the constant guard outside was any hint. A perfect house for a pompous snake, Jonathan thought.

Well over an hour had passed by the time the outlaw finished cleaning his guns, and still there was no sign of Tyler. Unimpressed with the whole situation, Jon abandoned his spot to go look for somewhere to get some food from. 

He wandered the richer areas of Saint Denis, walking amongst people far wealthier than he and shadowed by houses he could never afford. Not that he would want to fit in with the folks around here; the city gave off bad energy that swirled around Jonathan’s stomach like a viper whispering warnings of worse times ahead. 

Or maybe Jonathan was just hungry. 

He trudged through to the poor sector, and found a cheap enough restaurant where he could get some lunch. The meal of the day was roast beef with mashed potatoes, and cost only a few dollars. It was actually pretty damn good compared to the dried meats and fruits the camp had been eating for the past few days. 

As he ate, Jonathan found himself rather missing Lauren’s stews. Fresh meat compared to very little in terms of quality. There really was nothing like eating a deer that had been grazing on grass only hours ago. 

Stomach now full and heart aching for the freedom of the west, Jonathan returned to his spot at the park. It was another full hour before he spotted Tyler’s stupid hat rounding the corner. 

Tyler also brought with him a disgruntled looking Evan, who stood slightly behind a slightly-less angry Brian. 

“You sure took long enough,” Jonathan remarked, standing up and stretching his arms towards the sky.

“Hush.” Tyler shook his head and led the way to the house across the street. “We got caught up, is all. Did you learn anything new about this guy?” 

“Nope, but don’t go shooting up the place,” Jonathan warned Brian as they fell in line behind their leader. “The source we met said this guy has fifty men, and I don’t think he was bluffing.” 

Brain scoffed. “I’ll keep my head just fine, let’s just get this over with.” 

“No one’s gonna shoot up the place anyhow,” Tyler confirmed. “We’ll charm this guy into giving us our ladies, watch me.” 

The group of outlaws walked right up to the metal gate that separated the overly lavish house from the rest of the city, and met the servant that stood there. 

At best, the look the servant was giving them was wary. At worst, it was outright hostile. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” Tyler began easily, giving him a winning smile. “We have an appointment to meet with your boss, Mister Bronte.” He walked right up to the gate while the rest of the outlaws stayed a couple steps back. 

The servant raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?” 

Tyler chuckled, and reached through the bars. He grabbed the collar of the servant’s shirt and yanked the man into the metal gate, rattling it quite noisily. “You go grab your boss so we can talk about this like gentlemen, okay?” 

He shoved the servant away, and watched as they picked themself up off the ground and ran into the house. They emerged with two guards, each with their weapons leveled at the outlaws. 

“Was that the special Tyler charm you were tellin’ us about?” Brian asked as they raised their hands in surrender. 

“Hey, now,” Tyler said easily. “From here on out, it’s all charisma.” 

The servant came forth, now with a pistol of their own, and unlocked the metal gate. They looked extremely unhappy about it. 

As they walked through, Tyler told them all in his calming voice, “Relax, boys, we come in peace. We just got a couple things to straighten out with your boss.” 

One of the guards snapped something at them, but it most certainly wasn’t in English. Italian, Jonathan remembered the drunken stranger saying Bronte was Italian.

The outlaws were directed into a living room of sorts, with two couches facing each other in the center of a dark rug covering even darker hardwood. 

The wallpaper was a light beige, while the curtains and furniture were dark brown. A fire was going in the mantle, yet it seemed to provide no warmth to the room. A few paintings decorated the walls, all of strange men with deep-set scowls. 

A man occupied the couch facing the doorway, who could only be Angelo Bronte. He was sprawled lengthwise on the expensive furniture, with a book on his lap. He wore a red silk robe over expensive clothes, and a weird sort of cap that had a tassel hanging off of it. When the outlaws entered the room, he snapped his book shut as they came to a stop behind the empty couch. 

Bronte looked to his own men, and asked something in Italian. It sounded like gibberish to Evan, but his lackeys understood and answered him back.

“Why did you take our women?” Tyler asked with an air of authority that Evan didn’t feel was deserved. They were not the ones in charge in this household, he knew that much. 

“Excuse me?” Angelo Bronte asked him, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor.

“Why did you take our women?” Tyler softened his tone just enough. “We ain’t got a problem with you, sir, nor you with us.” 

Angelo Bronte did not seem to agree. “You come into  _ my  _ city, stinking of shit and looking like this? You come into _ my _ house before you’ve had a bath, and tell me  _ my _ business? You ask me to show compassion, yet have I not shown you nearly  _ infinite  _ compassion already by merely allowing you to breath in my presence?” His accent twisted his words a little, making them seem harsher than they were. 

The insults rankled Tyler well enough, but he kept cool. This was a delicate matter, and brute force would only end poorly for him and his outlaws. 

“You have,” Tyler admitted though it pained him to do so. “Sir, we are but simple country folk.” He took a seat on the couch opposite the Italian and lowered his hands. “All we have is each other, and you took two of my mens’ wives, you see. All over a dispute with some inbred ex-slavers, this don’t involve any of us.” 

“So it was not you that destroyed the liquor business!” Angelo Bronte demanded, voice raising with his temper. 

“We were innocent bystanders,” Tyler denied calmly. “The Braithewaits and the Grays tore each other to pieces, they used us as they used everyone around them. Whatever we weren’t innocent of, well we surely were ignorant of.” 

Angelo Bronte pointed at him. “You, you twist words, you like shamelessly, you think you are better than everyone else…” he trailed off, glaring at the four outlaws that stood in his house wondering if they were about to be shot down. 

Then he smiled, said something in Italian, laughed, commanded his men, and stood up to shake Tyler’s hand. “Angelo Bronte,” He introduced himself with the camaraderie of old-time friends. 

“Tyler Wine,” The outlaw said, offering his own relieved smile. He pointed to his own men as he introduced them, “Brian Hanby, Jonathan Dennis, and Evan Fong.” 

After Angelo Bronte shook all their hands, the four outlaws crowded onto the spare couch. Well, Evan decided that it wouldn’t hold four people, and elected to stand behind it with his hands firmly on the back of the furniture.

A servant came around with drinks for all of them, a small glass of something that smelled far too close to the Braithewait moonshine for comfort.

“So can we have our women back?” Tyler asked, much like a child asking for a treat. 

“Of course, of course,” Angelo Bronte said easily. “But should I be out of pocket over a misunderstanding? But I know you would not want that, huh?” 

Tyler clenched his jaw almost imperceptibly. “No, we do not.” 

“No, no, no, so how about this; you perform a simple job for me, and you get your ladies back.” 

“What is it?” Brian groaned, setting his still full glass on the coffee table.

Angelo Bronte’s smile fell. “A few people have taken up grave robbing in the cemetery.” 

“Well that is the place for it, the best even,” Tyler noted. 

The Italian laughed, pointing his glass at him. “I love this guy, I love you! Anywho, they’re desecrating the dead and they’ve done so without paying tribute to the living. Of course, they see my men, they run a mile. But you three,” He gestured to Evan, Jon, and Brian. “Perhaps you could go and encourage them to stop, and you,” He pointed to Tyler. “Mister Wine, perhaps you can tell me more about my manners.” 

Tyler looked as if he would rather be doing anything else, but they didn’t have much of a choice. Evan waited for Brian and Jon to stand up, and then the three of them left the uncomfortable situation behind. 

It was nearing dark when they exited the house, and each of them paused on the sidewalk to take a breath of somewhat fresh air. 

“Holy shit, if I never see that man again it’ll be too soon,” Brian muttered under his breath, mindful of Bronte’s men still guarding the gate. 

Evan took the lead as they walked to their horses. “Agreed.” As he mounted his horse and they started moving, he could admit to himself that the sound of his mare’s hooves on the cobbled street was satisfying to him. It was one good thing about this shithole of a city. 

“Grave robbers,” Brian sneered, coming up to Evan’s left. “Does he take us for fools?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jonathan answered him. “What choice do we got?” 

“None, I guess. It’s still idiotic.” 

“That could sum up damn near everything we’ve ever done. Do you even know where the cemetery is?” 

“We rode by it on our way here,” Evan said. “It’s real impressive.” 

“You did good,” Jonathan gave Brian a light punch to the shoulder. “Holdin’ your tongue in there.” 

Brian scoffed. “It wasn’t easy. But you trust a single word that comes out of that bastard’s mouth? We still don’t even know where Lauren or Simone are; what if they’re already halfway to Italy and he’s just pullin’ our legs?”

“You can’t think like that, man, you’ll give yourself a heart attack. Just focus on what’s happening right now, okay?” 

“I just… I hope they’re okay.” 

“I’m sure they are,” Evan offered. “Look, I figure the Braithewait’s were gonna use ‘em as ransom, gave ‘em to Bronte so we couldn’t get to them. But now, Bronte’s realized there’s no Braithewait’s left to pay him. Our women are of no use to him. So we do this job, let Tyler handle the rest, and we’ll get our women back.” 

“So you say. The cemetery’s right up here,” Brian pointed to a walled off area taking up the corner of an intersection. 

“Let’s hitch up.” Evan led the way to the hitching posts across the street. Night had fallen by now, which would give them the element of surprise. Hopefully they wouldn’t even have to kill anyone tonight.

He opened the wrought iron gate and let the other outlaws enter first. Once they were inside, the full size of the place hit them. 

Row upon row of graves stretched pretty far, far enough for the furthest wall to be completely obscured by the thick fog that had blanketed the city. The only parts of the ground that weren’t occupied by the dead were the designated walking paths. Grave markers carved from stones and mausoleums alike stood against everything, humans and elements alike. Most of them were almost as tall as the outlaws, with only a few kept low to the ground.

“When it comes to my time,” Jonathan said, voice low so as to not disturb the dead. “Bury me  _ deep _ . In the woods. This place gives me the chills.” 

“With pleasure,” Evan muttered, feeling similar sentiments. He took a deep breath, and began walking down the path. “Careful now, we don’t wanna spook them.” 

A dog started barking towards their right, and something that sounded like warbled crying came off from the left. The outlaws shared a look and came up with a plan. 

Evan went towards the dog, Jonathan went towards the crying, and Brian kept moving further into the cemetery. 

The dog was a mangy little thing barking up a storm at a small group of rats. Evan shushed the poor mutt and pet him a little, earning a good few tail waggles for his efforts. 

Jonathan just found a drunken man sobbing over his dead friend. He offered his condolences and advised the man to head home. 

Brian found nothing. Just more graves, some with flowers, most without. Then, he heard the booming rumble of stone bricks falling to the ground. It drew Evan and Jonathan back to the path. 

As they edged closer the source of the noise, all they found was a mausoleum pushed up against the furthest wall of the cemetery. The wooden doors were still closed and an empty rucksack was left on the ground.

Evan covered the right side of the door, Jonathan took the left, and Brian crouched behind a grave in front of it. 

As he kicked open the doors to the mausoleum, Jon shouted, “You boys found my pa’s watch yet?” 

Only to be met with a room empty save for the casket. 

Then gunshots rang out, the bullets missing their mark and scraping into the concrete wall. Evan shot back, seeing four men run off before he ran behind another gravestone for cover.

“They’re makin’ a run for it!” Brian shouted, downing one of them with a bullet to the back. He ran after the others, with Jonathan close on his heels. 

“They’re bringing us out into the open,” Evan shot another one of them down before following after the remainders.

Two more men popped up out of nowhere, firing up a storm at Evan before he shot the both of them. “Reckon this’ll wake a few people up,” He remarked.

“No doubt.” Jonathan called back to him.

Three shots rang out, then complete silence replaced the noise. It was unsettling, until Brian called out, “That’s all of them.” 

Evan breathed a sigh of relief, and started making his way towards where those assholes opened fire on them. “Let’s find their stash and get back to Tyler, all that ruckus must’ve alerted the entire damn city.” 

It took a few minutes of searching through the thick fog, but eventually, it was Jonathan who located the stash; it was inside a small mausoleum, laying on top of the casket next to a lantern.

The stash was only a small pouch of goodies - metal, possibly jewels too - and Evan hoped that it would be enough. Just as he began to calm down, whistles broke through the silence. The whistles that the pathetic law force carried around the city.

Out of habit, the outlaws all ducked down to avoid bullets. When none came their way - just more tinny whistling - they darted over to the back entrance, another metal gate. 

“It’s fuckin’ locked,” Brian whispered, rattling the gate as quietly as he could.

“Then we gotta get out the way we came,” Evan told them. He ducked down low, and crept through the cemetery as quietly as he could. 

Brian and Jonathan stayed right on his heels, a bit too close for his liking. Evan went to go around a gravestone, and froze when he saw a policeman coming over to him. Brian and Jon both bumped into him, almost falling to the ground as they stumbled. Jon yanked Evan back into cover, and they stood still.

“I found a body!” The policeman called out to his buddies in a whiny voice. “Fresh, still bleeding. They’re still here!” 

Evan peeked over the gravestone, and watched the policeman wander off in a different direction. He waited a beat, then continued to move. 

They had made it damn near all the way to the exit before they had to stop again. There was an intersection between them and the gate, with three policemen standing in the middle of it all. 

They bitched about their jobs, and then split up. One of them was coming directly for the outlaws where they were crouched behind a mausoleum. Evan panicked for a brief moment, but Jonathan took the lead on this one. 

He waited until the policeman was just about to pass them, grabbed him and jammed his knife into the man’s neck. He gurgled on his blood a little, and Jonathan lowered the body to the ground. 

With the way now clear, the outlaws finally made it out of the cemetery. Sprinting to their horses, they jumped on and were moving before any of the policemen knew what had happened. 

Evan watched behind them as they quickly left the cemetery behind and sighed when he saw no lawmen were following them. They got one small reprieve this night, it would seem. 

“Bronte better not be playin’ games with us after all this,” Brian said. 

Jonathan scoffed. “He most certainly is, but let’s just see. Maybe we can win.” 

“We ain’t had much of a winning streak as of late,” Evan reminded him. 

“We’ll just have to see where we’re at once we got our ladies back.”

They arrived at Angelo Bronte’s house to see Tyler sitting with Lauren and Simone on the concrete steps in front of the door. 

All three of them stood up as the outlaws were let in the gate by a servant, with the ladies looking relieved and Tyler looking less-than pleased. 

“You took your time,” He remarked as Evan approached him.

“Lauren!” Brian went to greet the woman, bringing her in for a tight hug before checking her over. “Are you okay? Did they lay a hand on you? If they did, so help me, I will rip out their-” 

“Brian, I’m fine!” Lauren interrupted his tirade by bringing his hands to her cheeks. “See? I’m fine, Simone’s fine, we’re both just fine.” 

Evan brought Simone in for a grateful hug and let her do the same for Jon. “Oh, we missed you boys,” She said, giving them each a kiss on the cheek. “That Bronte fellow is a strange man, I’ll tell you that.” 

“Where is he?” Evan asked, suddenly noticing the lack of said Italian.

“Like I said,” Tyler told him. “You took your time.” 

With no one else to give it to, Jonathan took the grave robber’s stash from his satchel and tossed it to the guard at the front door. 

“Can we head home?” Lauren asked suddenly, dropping Brian’s hands in favor of holding her round stomach. Her smile fell into something more of a grimace. “I’m feeling strange.” 

Brian immediately resumed his examination of her. “What’s wrong? Is something hurting?” 

“No, no, silly, I just would like to see my husband, is all.” Lauren began walking off towards their horses, her gait a bit rough.

Simone took Jonathan’s arm in her left, Evan’s in her right, and let the two outlaws take her there as well. 

Tyler followed close behind with Brian, who seemed to deflate a little at Lauren’s dismissal, understandable though it was. 

“Hey, friend,” Tyler said to the servant at the gate. “Thank Mister Bronte for us, would you kindly? Thank him for everything.”

Brian helped Lauren up onto his horse, and was concerned at her stiff movements. He kept quiet, though, and waited until Simone was situated behind Evan on his mare to get moving. 

“Mister Bronte invited us to a garden party at the mayor’s house,” Tyler told them all as they left. 

“Just you simple country boys?” Simone grinned. 

“Just us simply country boys,” Tyler agreed.

“But he treated y’all alright?” Brian asked, twisting so he could look to Lauren. 

Simone waved him off. “Oh, just fine. He didn’t tell us much, of course, but I told off his men when they tried to manhandle us and he treated us nice after that. We had a room, we bathed, he washed our clothes. It was honestly a little weird. We tried spaghetti, though, right Lauren?” 

Lauren responded by tightening her grip around Brian, sending a small wave of panic up the Irishman’s spine. 

“The hell is spaghetti?” Evan asked, unaware of what was happening. 

Simone shrugged. “I’m still not quite sure, and I ate the damn food. Bronte said it was pasta and a tomato sauce. It felt kinda like eating worms, but it tasted alright. Lauren couldn’t stomach it, though. Her cravings started up again, and poor Bronte’s men were not equipped to deal with that.” 

“Hey, Brian?” Lauren finally piped up, voice strained and grip vice-like around his ribcage. 

“Yeah?”

“I need to get to camp.” 

All eyes were on her, and alarm rose. 

“What’s wrong?” Tyler asked carefully. 

“My water just broke.”

Shady Belle was a pretty quiet place, all things considered. Being shadowed by a swamp sort of absorbs a decent amount of noise. The chirping of bugs was washed out, with the occasional breeze rustling the leaves being the loudest thing. 

Tonight, though, that was not the case. 

The entire camp was awoken by blood-curdling screams. 

Thinking that someone was dying, every single outlaw shot out of their tent with some form of a weapon. Even Brock emerged with a butcher’s knife. 

Then he saw that his wife was back, and he was elated. He dropped the knife to run to her, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw that she was the one screaming. He redoubled his efforts to get to her, and helped Brian lower her off his horse.

“Hope you’re ready, darling,” Lauren told her husband, panting heavily between her words. 

“What’s happening?” He asked frantically, clutching her to him as she burrowed her face into his shirt. 

“She’s fuckin’ giving birth!” Brian shouted, looking beyond panicked. 

“Shit, the baby’s coming?” Lanai pushed her way through the gathering crowd and gathered Lauren in her arms. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta walk with me here,” She went to lead Lauren to the house, but the woman was feeling unagreeable. 

Lauren tried to walk on her own, and stumbled. Nogla shot forward to catch her before she could fall and steadied her. Brock came up on her other side, and the two men led her to the main house. 

“Put her in the room we prepped,” Lanai told them, then turned to Tyler. “You, go get me a pail of water and rag.” She looked to the rest of the camp, and glared. “What the fuck are you looking at, go away!” 

“You know what the hell you’re doing?” Brock asked, arms open to catch Lauren as she ascended the stairs. 

“I was a midwife, yes I know what I’m doing!” 

Nogla, far too anxious about the stairs, scooped Lauren up in his arms and carried her up. Halfway through, she let out another scream, and clutched Nogla’s arm so tightly that her nails broke the skin and he would surely have bruises. 

He didn’t falter, though, just kept moving and eventually made it to the room. It was the last bedroom on the floor, and was saved for this exact reason. 

Nogla lowered her on the bed, and was promptly shoved out of the room by Lanai. 

“Brock only,” She snapped. She turned back to the pregnant woman who was panting on the bed, and quickly tied her hair up with a ribbon. 

There was a knock on the door, and Tyler entered with a bucket of water and several rags. Lanai took them and handed them off to Brock, and said, “I’ll need a blanket too, something to wrap up the baby. And towels! Bring me so many towels!” 

“Where’s Brian?” Lauren asked, looking at her husband with unfocused eyes. “We should have Brian here, right? We want him here.” 

Lanai glanced at Brock, who nodded. “We want Brian here with us,” He confirmed. 

“Sure thing.” Lanai crossed the room to the glassless window, and leaned out. “Brian Michael Hanby, get your ass up here!” She yelled out, then went to receive the blanket that Tyler had brought. “Brock, hold her hand. I’m gonna coach you through this as best as I can, alright?” 

Lauren nodded, gripping her husband’s hand tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “I want this to be over.” 

“It will be,” Lanai promised, fixing the towels up under Lauren’s legs and lower torso. “You just gotta trust me.” 

“I’m here!” Brian burst through the door, still wide-eyed and panicked but looking a little more put together. 

Lauren gestured frantically for him with her free hand, and the second he was close enough, grabbed his hand and held him close. 

“Ow, Lauren, ow-ow-ow, oh my Lord, you’re so strong,” Brian grit his teeth, and looked at Brock. “She’s so strong she’ll break my hand!” 

“You’re not the one pushing a baby out of you, shut the hell up!” Lauren snapped, usually sweet tone replaced with something bitter and slightly agonized. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean that, it’s just- FUCKING HELL!” Her strength increased tenfold as another contraction washed over her, and Brian looked like he was about to faint. 

Lanai just checked on her progress and ignored the shouting. “Brian, wipe her forehead. She’s gotta push soon.”

Brian dunked the rag into the washbasin, cleaning off Lauren’s forehead much like he had done for Evan when the outlaw had needed it. At least this was for a much happier reason.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Brock told his wife, petting her sweaty hair to clear it from her face. 

“Go to hell,” She said simply, sagging into the mattress. “You did this to me.”

Evan winced as another round bout of shouting echoed down from the house. Lauren sounded like she was dying, and it hit a bit too close to reality for comfort.

“I was fearful she would go into labor while we were at Bronte’s place,” Simone admitted. She was seated at the campfire, a few of the outlaws crowded around them as they ate a small meal. “She’d been on the edge for a week now, she just didn’t tell anyone.”   
“She can tell us anything,” Nogla said, leaning back with a metal cup of whiskey. “She knows that.” 

“Yes, but giving birth is terrifying. I certainly couldn’t imagine being in her situation.” Simone looked around camp, but couldn’t find a particular face. It wasn’t a huge concern to her now, he could simply be out doing a job or something. “I’m just glad to be home. That Bronte man is not someone I’m keen to see again.” 

“You didn’t learn anything about him?” Tyler asked. “His business, anything like that?” 

“We only saw him for dinner,” Simone said with a shrug. “Otherwise we were locked in a room all day. It was very boring, I’ll tell you that.” 

Nogla chuckled. “You didn’t enjoy your vacation away from scolding us all the damn time?” 

“Sorry I like to make sure that you  _ clean _ yourselves on a regular basis. If it wasn’t for me, all of you would’ve died of dysentery by now.” Simone shook her head at the lot of them, and let out a yawn. 

“I would say I’ll show you to where you’re sleepin’ but I don’t think any of us will be getting any rest for a long while,” Evan said, shooting a look towards the main house. As if to emphasize his point, another round of shouting burst through the night air, rousing the crickets around them.

The time was five thirty-three in the morning when Charlotte Marie Barrus was born. After several hours of gruesome labor, with Lauren screaming her throat raw and thoroughly bruising both her husband’s and Brian’s hands, she pushed her baby girl free. 

Lanai cut the cord, cleaned her off, wrapped her and handed her over to her father. Brock’s smile was so bright it was blinding, and Lanai considered her job done. 

She vacated the room to leave the family alone, and went downstairs to collapse on the couch. 

As she sank into the piece of furniture that felt heavenly for her tired body, she let out a bone-deep sigh. 

“You were a midwife, huh?” Simone’s calm voice, the complete opposite of the pain screaming that still had Lanai’s ears ringing, filled the quiet. 

Lanai nodded without opening her eyes. “Had to make money somehow where I grew up. Did that first before realizing that thievery was a hell of a lot more lucrative, if done right.”

“I take it was a successful delivery?” 

“Easiest I’ve ever helped with. The Barrus’ now have a cute little baby girl to keep us all up at night with.” 

Simone chuckled. “That little girl is going to be the most spoiled baby on the planet with all of us around.” She entered the room and looked around. “So this is our new camp?” She asked, not sounding too impressed.

“It’s got a roof,” Lanai pointed up, and pushed herself into a sitting position. “And us ladies are all sleeping under it while the boys tough it outside, so it could be worse. All of your stuff is over there, by the way. No one touched it while you were… gone.” 

“Gone,” Simone echoed with a small smile. She made her way to her things, and paused when she saw what was lying on top of the boxes. She picked up the objects, feeling them reverently.

In her hands were a pair of red gloves with white lace around them. Gloves that everyone in camp recognized. 

Gloves that Marcel got for Simone back in Valentine.

The realization that Simone didn’t  _ know _ hit Lanai like a bag of rocks. 

“You should go talk to Scotty,” Lanai said before she could control herself. “About what’s happened when you were gone.” 

“Why?” Simone’s smile tilted in her confusion, then faded altogether. “What happened?” 

“Scotty,” was all Lanai could say.

Scotty had  _ just _ fallen asleep after listening to Lauren shouting for hours, he had been dancing that line between consciousness and sleep for far too long, and he  _ had just  _ made it to the land of slumber, when someone ripped open the flaps of his tent. 

They held a lantern in their hand, which only served to blind him.

“Hello?” He asked, holding his arm up to shield his eyes. “Who-” 

“What the hell happened to him?” Simone asked, tone unnaturally cold. 

Scotty froze, both physically and mentally. 

“What happened to Marcel?” Simone repeated her question as she took a step into his tent. “Where is he?”

“Dead.” Scotty stood up, unsure of what to do with himself. 

Simone’s eyes fell to the ground and filled with unshed tears. She tried to take a step back, only for her legs to crumple underneath her. 

Scotty slipped his arms around her to catch her, easing her to the ground. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, over and over again like a mantra. “I’m so sorry.” 

She started shaking in his arms, pressing her face to his shoulder to muffle her sobs. 

Neither of them got any sleep that night.

Evan decided to forgo sleep entirely that night, instead spending his time grooming the horses. Ohm had joined him eventually, also resigned to a restless morning. Tiny the dog flitted about their heels as they worked and watched the sun come up, painting the sky in brilliant shades of reds and oranges.

Evan was working on a particularly difficult knot in Tyler’s horse when Scotty came up to him, followed closely by a dead-eyed Simone. 

“I’m gonna take her to Marcel,” Scotty told him, scratching the back of his head. “We’ll be back soon.” 

Evan understood instantly, and offered Simone a hug. “I’m sorry.” 

She just nodded, and went about saddling up her horse.

Evan tried to go back to what he was doing, but saw something out of the corner of his eye. 

What he saw was Brock holding his daughter close to his chest, very slowly walking around camp while his wife rested. He bounced her every so often, resting his cheek on her head. Even with the distance between them, Evan saw that Brock’s hand resting on his daughter’s back was very red, turning purple.

“One replaces another,” Ohm mused, watching the same scene as Evan. 

“How do you mean?” Evan asked, dropping his gaze back the knotted horse tail before him. 

“Marcel’s gone, but here’s a baby. Circle of life and all that.” 

“I don’t think that’s what that means. And that baby girl isn’t gonna be like us, not if Lauren has anything to say about.” 

Ohm chuckled. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Still though. It’s not all lost, you know?” 

“What’s not all lost?”

Ohm had to think about it for a second, but with a smile, he answered, “Hope.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baby has been born and let me tell you, no one's getting any sleep anymore


	29. schmoozing with the big kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the outlaws go to a fancy garden party.

It was Brian’s turn to calm the baby. 

He could’ve sworn it was Brock’s - Brian had already calmed her down several times throughout the night - but both the Barrus’ kept insisting that he do it. 

So Brian schlepped down the stairs as quietly as he could with a fussy baby clutched to his chest while his partners slept peacefully in the nice bed. 

For being born less than forty-eight hours ago, Charlotte was already a menace. After sleeping, she cried. After she ate, she cried. After a gust of wind blew too hard on her, she cried. 

She didn’t do much of anything except cry.

Brian loved her, though. She was kind of cute, in a sort of misshapen potato kind of way. So he bounced her around a little as he walked towards the camp kitchen to get some coffee started for the day. 

Hardly anyone else was awake at this hour. Or at least, up and moving. Charlotte surely kept a few people up with her crying, which Brian knew the Barrus’ felt terribly guilty about. 

But no one was too upset by it; one look at the baby, and they were helpless against her cherubic giggle. Charlotte would have a lot of people wrapped around her fingers someday, Brian could see it now. 

She let out a weird little gurgle as he poured water into the pot, and lightly thumped her baby fist against him when he jostled her a little too hard. 

“You’re okay,” he murmured to her, over and over like a mantra. “I’m just makin’ coffee, mo stoirín. You’ll like it someday, surely you will.” 

“She can’t talk back,” Craig said stiffly as he approached. Probably laid awake and just waited for someone to make the coffee, all so he wouldn’t have too. 

Brian barely spared him a glance, more concerned with ensuring that his dumb voice wouldn’t upset Charlotte. “If no one talks to her, how is she meant to learn?” 

“She can’t learn anything, she can barely open her eyes.” 

Brian took a deep breath, and counted to ten. “Could you not be so shitty around the baby? I mean, seriously, the hell is wrong with you?” 

Craig just shrugged. “I’m only telling the truth.” 

“I’m gonna shoot you,” Brian said with an overly cheerful tone. “One of these days, I’m going to fuckin’ kill you.”

“Didn’t Lauren say she didn’t want you to swear around her kid?” Kelly offered with a smile as the scent of coffee drew her near. 

Brian shook his head and looked at Charlotte as she was slumped against his chest. “She doesn’t know what I’m saying.” 

“‘Cause she doesn’t know anything,” Craig affirmed. He poured himself a cup of coffee, begrudgingly poured one for Kelly when she stuck her mug underneath the pot, and straightened up. “By the way, we’re going into Saint Denis to buy some clothes for later.” 

“Why, what’s later?” 

“The ball, Cinderella,” Kelly reminded him, gently slapping his shoulder that didn’t have a baby sleeping on it. “Bronte invited us, remember?” 

Brian raised an eyebrow. “He did  _ not _ invite you.” 

“Tyler did, he said he needed a woman’s luck, whatever that means. Probably just wants me to get information out of sleazy old men, but there’ll be free booze and good food so I’m in.” 

“What about Evan or Jonathan?” 

She took a sip of her coffee and flicked her gaze towards the main house, where Tyler was now exiting and heading for the horses. “There’s trouble in paradise, don’t ya’ know, Bri?” 

“Yeah, I know it. They usually settle stuff like this by now, though.”

“Not this time, man. Evan’s pissed about those Pinkertons. And about everything, really.” 

“I don’t see why,” Craig interjected despite his opinion being the second-least wanted thing in the world, second only to the man himself. “I think we did everything we could to make the best out of that situation, and we’re still going strong for all that’s happened.” 

Brian turned away from the two of them, instead focusing on the fussy baby that was stirring from her quick power nap. “Sure, whatever. I’ll go give this little one to her Da, and we can get goin’.”

Kelly watched as Brian inspected himself in the mirror, turning this way and that, trying to compile his thoughts on his newest outfit. 

“I look like a right fool,” He decided finally. 

Lauren snorted from where she sat on the bed with her baby in her arms, taking her millionth nap of the day. “I think you look quite dashing.” 

Kelly had to agree; they’d put Brian into a nice maroon suit, complete with dress shoes that clacked against the floor. It was definitely the nicest thing she’d ever seen him in. 

“I like it,” She said casually.

“I look like a clown, I should’ve gone with the plain black.” 

“That could’ve been nice, you would’ve matched with Craig.” 

Brian withheld his gag reflex at that unpleasant thought and looked at himself a bit longer. “Alright, so it’s not… awful.”

Kelly stood and walked over to the door. “You better not ruin it somehow, we paid a lot of money for all this getup.” She gestured to her own gown, a deep green, floor length thing that she liked but also ached to get out of. “Now let’s get going, we’re gonna be late.” 

They caught up with Tyler and Craig who had been arguing over whether or not to bring weapons to the party, and they simply fell behind Kelly and Brian as they walked to the nice carriage they had rented for the night.

“You ever been to a ball?” Craig asked rather loudly. “There’s all kinds of people you’re gonna wanna be protected from.” 

“No, I’ve never been, but they’ll take our weapons anyhow,” Tyler countered. 

“I’ve been to a few,” Kelly offered with a raise of her hand. “I’ve never had a gun pulled on me, but someone did try to knife me.” 

“The hell, why?” 

“Parties like these have good pickings, and I got caught.” 

Tyler huffed. “I’ll stop you right there, okay? No one’s pickpocketing anyone, you hear me? Tonight, we are normal people, not outlaws. We’re meeting people, making contacts. Not stealing.” He opened the door for them all, nodding at Scotty who would be driving them there. 

“What kind of contacts do you plan on making tonight?” Kelly asked as she climbed into the carriage.

Tyler shrugged as he took the last seat and closed the door. “Dunno, but we’re going to a party at the mayor’s house and the guest of honor is the biggest crook in town. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

The mayor’s house was larger than Bronte’s but only slightly. A large courtyard in the front was surrounded with a wrought iron gate, with several men covering the entrance. One of them, a well-dressed servant holding a clipboard, took the invitation from Tyler and inspected it. 

“I’m afraid the mayor does not allow guns at any of his functions, after last year’s incident.” The servant gestured to a chest that was laid open on the ground. 

Craig dropped a pistol into it and Brian a revolver. 

The servant raised an eyebrow at them. 

Craig pulled a knife out from the waistband of his pants and dropped it into the chest as well. “That’s it,” He promised. 

The servant nodded. “Luca here will take you to Signor Bronte, I believe he is expecting you. Follow me, gentlemen.” 

Kelly got a good look at the mayor’s house, and let out a low whistle. It was grand as could be; greek facade, complete with columns and a circular entrance. Fancy granite, floor-to-ceiling windows, pristine lanterns. 

“Signor Bronte will be pleased to see you made it,” Luca the servant told them as he led them into the extravagant house. His French accent swirled his words together in a much more elegant way than booze does. 

“We’re honored to be here,” Tyler told him, despite rather being anywhere else.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Luca preened. “Come, this way.” He opened the doors for them and led them into the mansion. “What a beautiful evening this shall be! Mister Bronte is very good friends with the mayor.” 

Brian shared a look with Craig, both of them wondering if anyone could truly be friends with Angelo Bronte. 

“Of course, as long as Mister Bronte behaves himself,” The servant continued on. “He has that thing, you know? Respect!” 

The foyer of the house had an imperial staircase, with the first flight splitting off into two that led up to a wrap-around hallway. All other doors were shut in the house, with the servant leading the outlaws into a hallway to the left of the staircase. 

“Brian, Craig, go join the party,” Tyler told them. “Kelly and I will join you after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” 

Kelly had to contain a gasp as they were led into a large room with a tile floor and at least ten ferns dotting the perimeter. They were larger than she, and gorgeous. As much as she wanted to inspect them, maybe plan to steal one, she had her own job to do. 

She quickly caught up with Tyler and took his arm, following the servant up a flight of stairs and out onto a balcony. She hid herself behind Tyler a little, using his height to shield herself from Bronte for a moment.

“Ah, the angry cowboys have arrived!” Angelo Bronte greeted them with a smile. “And you have washed!” He said something in Italian to his men, and they all chuckled with maliciousness in their eyes. 

Tyler went to shake his hand, revealing Kelly to them all. “This is quite a party you’ve thrown, Mister Bronte,” He said cheerfully. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Kelly Wine.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” She said with her own fake smile. 

“My dear, you are stunning! The pleasure is all mine.” Angelo Bronte took her offered hand and kissed her knuckles.

It was a valiant effort on her part to repress her grimace. “Thank you for inviting us,” She said. She gravitated over to the wooden railing, setting her hands on it and leaning slightly to get a better look at the scene before them. 

The mayor’s garden was quite large, with decorative shrubbery and at least two fountains, one on each end. Tables were spread out, lanterns were everywhere, a small team of musicians were stationed in the far corner. Nicely dressed people were everywhere, chatting and slinking about. 

“So this is Saint Denis’ high society?” Tyler remarked.

“So I’m told.” Bronte handed him two glasses of champagne, one for him, and one for Kelly. 

“And these are all your friends, Signor Bronte?” Kelly asked, taking her glass and sipping carefully. 

Angelo Bronte laughed. “No, no, my lady, not quite. But they certainly are afraid of me. Like that one,” He pointed to an older, spindly little man with odd facial hair in the center of a small group. “That’s the mayor. Henri Lemieux.”

“Why would he be scared of a gentleman such as yourself?” Kelly kept her nice smile on, despite how it was starting to strain the muscles of her face. 

“Sweet miss, people like him will do anything for a dollar,” Bronte told her. He had a servant light up cigars for himself and Tyler, of course omitting her completely. 

Tyler took a puff from his cigar, taking care to blow the smoke away from Kelly. “Politics is foul business,” He said. 

Angelo Bronte pointed to another man, this one with darker skin and wearing a military uniform of some kind. “And that one, Alberto Fussar. He owns a sugar plantation out on the islands, and comes here to - pardon my language, miss - he comes here to whore and desoil himself.” 

“Nasty business indeed,” Kelly muttered into her drink. 

“And that one!” This time was an old fat man with a much younger lady hanging off his arm. “Is Hobart Crawley! A Confederate major in the war. A hero, they say! But that is his...  _ very  _ young wife.” He gave Tyler a pointed look that he didn’t care for even a bit. “A young mistress, that’s the natural order of things, but a young wife? It’s unseemly.” He turned to his men for agreement.

Kelly tried to finish off her drink as quickly as she could without it being obvious she was trying to get drunk. 

“Oh, oh, and the redskins!” Angelo Bronte gestured with his cigar to two Natives that were conversing with the mayor. “I have no sympathy for them, because whoever is stupid enough to get tricked by the Americans, well, they get what they deserve!” 

All of Bronte’s men busted out into harsh laughter while Kelly and Tyler just shared a look of mutual disgust.

“Yes, hand a letter to the mayor, that’ll save you,” Bronte mocked the Natives’ actions, then saw another poor soul in the crowd. “And that is Hector Fellows,” He pointed out a middle-aged man with a large tophat. “A self-righteous newspaper man. Perhaps you could kill him for me.” 

Tyler paused at that, trying to gauge if Bronte was serious. “We’re not so much paid killers, you see,” He said delicately.

Bronte pressed his lips together in feigned remorse. “Oh, I did not take you for a man who would not help a friend. If you or your lovely missus here needed help, I would do all I could. Would you not do the same for me?” 

“I’m not saying that we wouldn’t be willing to help in any way we could,” Tyler quickly corrected himself. “Within reason.” 

“I’m going to pretend I know what that means.” Angelo Bronte turned back to the crowd and was all smiles once again. “All these vulgar people, they hate me.” He waved at them all and shouted something in Italian, gaining some laughs from his men. 

Tyler chose that moment to back away. “Well it was wonderful conversing with you, but I can tell you’re very busy, so we won’t waste anymore of your time.” 

Angelo Bronte waved them away. “Yes, yes, yes, go enjoy yourselves, mingle with these vulgar scum. It will make you long for the days when you could shoot each other and screw cows out on the open range- oops, pardon my language, Missus Wine.” He gave them a less-than genial smile. 

“Those sure were the days,” Tyler said through gritted teeth. “Good day, gentleman.” 

“Before you go,” Bronte called out, stopping the two outlaws in their tracks. “What’re your plans here?”

“We’ve not made any, but…” Tyler took a deep breath, as it pained him to admit, “We’re going to need some money.” 

“This may not be appropriate talk for a lady to hear, but there is money at the trolley station. They keep a lot there during the day. Of course I could not involve myself in such matters, but you? Ah, do it! As a guest, no, as  _ my _ guest, do it!” Angelo Bronte clapped his hands together. “Alright good evening, gentleman and lady.” 

With that, Tyler and Kelly finally took their leave. A servant led them down to the main party, thankfully away from Angelo Bronte and his horde of ego-boosters.

They were taken directly underneath the balcony, a raised circular platform where they could still see the majority of the party spread before them. 

Craig and Brian were still waiting for them, each other a drink and scowl on their face. 

Kelly had hardly waited for the servant to be gone before exclaiming, “I don’t think any one man could  _ try _ to be more repulsive!” 

“Shut up,” Tyler muttered, pointing to the floor above them. 

“So it went well?” Craig asked with a smirk. 

Tyler rolled his eyes at him. “Let’s just ingratiate ourselves into the party, yeah? Remember, steal  _ nothing _ unless it’s information. Brian, find us someplace to rob. Craig, make some new friends. I’ll see if Cornwall and Agent what’s-his-name know we’re here.” 

“The hell can I do?” Kelly asked, crossing her arms and pouting. 

“Anything you want, peabrain, as long as it won’t get ya’ killed.” Tyler then disappeared in the direction of the mayor, with Brian and Craig dispersing quickly afterwards. 

On her own, in a foul mood and lacking a drink, Kelly stood there and thought for a second. 

Then she started walking towards where she hoped food could be found.

Ten minutes later and Kelly was still foodless. She’d found another drink, and had gotten swamped into a conversation about the latest French fashion with two other ladies that wouldn’t stop jabbering, and had found no food. 

Kelly took a step back, intending to excuse herself, and bumped into a servant. 

“My apologies, madam,” The servant said quickly. He stooped his head low and kept walking on, muttering to himself about something that gave Kelly a pause. 

Her eyes flicked to the back of the servant, watching as he made his way towards the mayor. She realized it was Luca, the man who had taken them up to Bronte. 

“Excuse me,” She said curtly to the women in front of her before dipping into the crowd to follow after him..

Fireworks started up, startling Kelly hard enough to spill some of her drink. 

A man next to her chuckled at that, and she fought the urge to stab him with the knife she’d snuck in, and kept moving. 

She couldn’t get too close to the mayor without being noticeable, and the fireworks covered most of the conversation he had with Luca the servant, but she definitely heard the name Cornwall dropped more than once. 

The servant nodded to the mayor and began walking back to the house. Kelly waited a beat and turned, almost yelping when she saw Tyler was right behind you. 

“Give me a warning!” She slapped his shoulder and glared at him. 

He ignored it to jerk his head towards the mayor. “Did they say Cornwall?” He asked in a low voice, almost inaudible underneath the boom of the fireworks. 

Kelly nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Find out why.”

She saluted him with two fingers, and disappeared into the crowd. The servant was easy to find, dressed in a white suit jacket amongst a sea of darker colors.

Kelly followed him around the side of the house, slipping out of her shoes and holding them as she went. 

Luca stopped to ask a guard stationed at a side door, “No problems?” 

“None, we have the place well secured,” The guard affirmed. 

“Good. Mister Bronte has a habit of wandering about and reading whatever he likes.” Just another reason for Kelly to loathe Angelo Bronte, not that she needed any more.

“We’re watching him and his men like hawks.” 

“Thank you.” The servant entered the house while the guard continued making his rounds, leaving the door open for the outlaw hiding in their midst. 

Kelly snuck in, and saw another servant asking, “Is everything okay? The telephone, it keeps ringing.” 

“The mayor said he will take care of it soon,” Luca said before ushering the other away. 

Kelly wondered what needed to be taken care of with Cornwall. Nothing good, that’s for sure. She watched Luca inspect a dining table and apparently found it not to his liking. 

He yelled at a maid, something about standards slipping, before stalking away into the hallway by the stairs that Kelly had gone through earlier. He found the maid he’d yelled at, and yelled at her some more, only this time, to her face. 

He threatened to hit her, which had Kelly almost giving herself away in her desire to beat him over the head. Then the maid scurried off in tears, and Luca the servant went up the stairs.

Kelly followed, pressing herself against the corner of the landing to watch as he unlocked the door to the room closest to the stairs. He used a different key on the top drawer of the desk, and stuffed a bundle of papers inside. After Luca relocked the desk, he slipped that key as well as the door key onto a little ring which he put into his suit pocket, and left the room through the way he had come. 

Seeing her chance, Kelly purposely bumped into him, letting her hands wander to grab for the keys. She kept her fist clenched around them so they wouldn’t rattle, and dropped to the floor with a yelp. 

“Oh my, I’m so sorry!” She said, raising the pitch of her voice a bit. “I didn’t mean to run into you, please forgive me. I’m feeling faint, you see.” 

Luca helped her up with a barely-concealed sneer. “It is me who should be asking forgiveness, ma’am. I apologize for not looking where I was going.” He looked her up and down to ensure there was no damage, and promptly left her in the dust to get back to whatever his duties were. 

With a grin, Kelly tossed the keys up into the air, caught them, jingled them a bit, and went to the door. 

It unlocked with a satisfying click, and she shut it behind her, making sure to lock it so she wouldn’t be interrupted. 

The desk drawer clicked open, and revealed a ledger of sorts. A small stack of papers was stuffed into it, all with the word “confidential” stamped across the top. 

_ Perfect _ , Kelly thought. She took them and folded them so they would slip into the strap of the sheath on her upper thigh. The papers curved around her leg, and while uncomfortable, was unnoticeable with her dress over it. One of the few uses for many-layered dresses: they concealed stolen goods rather easily. 

She returned to Tyler as he was on the lower-level of the porch. He handed her a flute of champagne, and together, they drank and watched the still-going fireworks. 

When they had ceased and music took over the ambiance, Tyler turned to her, leaning on the railing a little. “Can I ask you something?” He said, voice unnaturally soft. 

She prepared herself for the worst, and nodded.

“Do you think I’m doing the wrong thing here?” 

She thought she had prepared herself, and yet here she was, caught the fuck off-guard. “What makes you think you’re doing the wrong thing?” She asked back. 

Tyler shrugged and didn’t meet her gaze. “Evan certainly thinks so. He’ll barely talk to me or Jon right now, a-and he won’t… he’s been sleeping on the fucking floor, Kelly. We have a real bed, for the first time in months, and he’s sleeping on the floor.” 

“That’s ‘cause he’s a stubborn oaf.” 

“Hey-” 

“So are you. So is Jon. You all refuse to acknowledge that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.” 

Tyler pondered her words as he took a sip of champagne. 

Kelly drank her own and sighed. “Look, I don’t know the ins and outs of your relationship, and I’ll never pretend to know. But I do know Evan, and he values communication. Talk to him, Ty, admit that maybe, just maybe, you were scared.” 

“I wasn’t scared.” 

“I was too,” Kelly admitted, for the first time in a long while. “I was scared for us all after Rhodes, and then Simone and Lauren were taken, and the fucking Pinkertons showed up… it was terrifying. I didn’t think we’d live another day. But we did, didn’t we? Didn’t we, Tyler?” 

Tyler managed the tiniest smile she’d ever seen. “Yeah, we did.”

“And we always will. Tyler Wine’s gang will always live to see another day.” Kelly clinked her glass against his with a triumphant grin. “There’s brighter times ahead,” She said. “It can only get so dark before the light shines through once more.” 

“Thanks,” Tyler said, so soft it was a whisper. 

Kelly nodded. “Of course, I’m always here for-” 

“This town is a goddamn waste of time!” Craig exclaimed, stomping up to them and looking exasperated. 

“Maybe not,” Brian countered, coming up behind Kelly with a grin. “I found a place we can start.” 

“And Kelly got us some information, so let’s go.” Tyler led the way out, back through the house. “What’d you find, Bri?” 

“A lot of money moves through this city,” He said, catching up to their leader with a hop in his step. “And I found out how we can grab some of it. A bank, a  _ big  _ bank. Not yet, though, but later.” 

“A city bank?” Tyler mused. 

“And a stuffed one at that. If we’re gonna leave, that could be the one thing we need.” 

“And Signor Bronte told us about a trolley car station.” They left the house behind and went to the main gate to retrieve their weapons.

Kelly scoffed. “You can’t seriously believe that?” 

Tyler just shrugged and opened the door to their carriage. “Only one way to find out. If that doesn’t work out, I heard about a high stakes poker game.” 

“All of them sound pretty good,” Craig said. 

As the boys kept talking, Kelly focused her attention out the window. She watched as the mayor’s house grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing as they rounded a street corner. 

She hadn’t really believed Jonathan’s description of the city, but after tonight, she knew that he had only spoken the truth. It was a sweltering pit filled with the worst of the worst, and she couldn’t wait to leave it behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I move on campus for college in like three days so the next update will probably be a while. Sorry in advance!
> 
> Also, mo stoirín means "my little darling" according to google. Just a cute nickname for the baby


	30. something actually worked out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the gang prepares for a fine night of debauchery onboard a riverboat. Evan gets a little bit of sense talked into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so um... three weeks later, here's an update. Not gonna lie, I didn't expect college to be as busy as it is. I literally have no free time anymore, so writing chapters is much more difficult than I anticipated. But don't worry, they're still coming. I'll make my gremlin brain work with me long enough to finish this damn story.

Smitty massaged his temples with both hands for the third time in the last five minutes. “I  _ really _ don’t think we need to forcefully rob the whole place. This whole thing is about subterfuge, hiding in plain sight, that kind of thing.” 

“We know it’s a little out of your comfort zone,” John added, rubbing his lover’s back and shooting a pointed glance towards the other outlaw in their tent. “But think it over. We get in, rob some rich folk blind, and get out. Easy as stealing sweets from an infant.” 

“If this job takes a turn for the worst too soon, there’s no escape. This event is on a riverboat, Craig. If we need to escape, what would we do? Jump over the edge of the boat and swim to shore?” 

“At the very least, we’d ruin our clothes, the river is quite disgusting. At the most, we’d get shot, or drown, or both.” 

“Alright, alright,” Craig conceded with a scowl. “We’ll do it your way. We can split up into two groups, scam twice as many people that way. Either of you any good at poker?” 

“Nogla is,” Smitty suggested, much to Craig’s disdain.

Craig didn’t have to search hard for an excuse. “He’s not exactly the best actor.” 

“But he can make sweeping the table at poker much more believable.” 

John nodded. “He’s the right choice here and you know it. I’ll take him into town later to get him a nice suit. You two discuss the rest, fill us in later.” 

Nogla relaxed into the open carriage, propping his feet up on the opposite bench in between Smitty and John. “So, I’m just playin’ poker the whole night? Sounds like a jolly good time.” 

“You’re more than playing poker,” Smitty corrected him, taking out his handkerchief. He wiped away some invisible scuff on the Irishman’s dress shoes, even wetting his thumb to wipe away the imaginary dirt. 

“You’re in the oil business, and just came into some new money,” Craig told him. “You’re here to lay it on thick - get drunk and bet extravagantly.” 

“I’ve been doin’ that my whole life, I was born for this role.” 

“Let me clarify, you aren’t actually getting drunk. You’re just pretending to be drunk.” 

Nogla waved him off. “I can be drunk off my arse and still be right as rain. No harm in having a drink or two, to really sell the image, you know?” 

“As long as you don’t fuck this up. John’ll be with you to signal your moves so you can’t lose.” 

“I wouldn’t lose anyway. And what’ll you two be doin’? Sitting around with your prick out?” 

Craig rolled his eyes. “We’ll be doing the same, genius. We’re here to work everyone over.” 

“I went through the guest list and found two men that we should each target heavily. One of them, Desmond Blythe, made his fortune in  _ hosiery  _ of all things. The other is a Wallace Humphries, made it big in the lumber industry. It is them we should play with first, at their own tables.” 

“Christ, how much have you boys rigged this?” Nogla asked, feeling a little offended. “If it was poker you wanted to win, I can do that no problem.”

John could only shrug. “This is what we do, we tip the job in your favor.” 

“So you have to  _ try _ to fuck it up. So don’t,” Craig added. 

“I feel I should clarify as well,” Smitty piped up, watching as they began approaching the docks. “When they take you to the vault to pay your winnings, you aren’t to take any more than you’ve earned. It is crucial to keep our heads down as far as we can right now.” He spoke to both of the outlaws across from him, but it was clear he was only addressing Craig. 

Said man simply waved him off. “I heard you the first eight times, Christ alive.”

The group of outlaws fell silent as their carriage made it to the docks. A few boats were lined up, but only of them was a riverboat; it was minimally decorated, painted with dark colors accentuated with red, and just radiated a smarmy aura. 

Nogla couldn’t wait to scam his way through the entire night.

“Leave your weaponry here,” Smitty told them all. He nodded towards the carriage driver, an older man with a curled mustache. “We’ll see you here later, George.” 

“Of course, Mister Smith. Good luck tonight.” George drove off, leaving the four outlaws on the dock.

Approaching the boat, Nogla took notice of the guards. Several, all with rifles, just to watch the entrance. Nevermind how many were inside the boat itself, or around the safe. As confident as he wanted to be, Nogla felt the creepings of self-doubt starting up and down his spine. 

John stuck close to him as they boarded the ship, greeting the staff as they passed by. “Keep your head up,” He reminded the Irishman quietly. “You’re a brash oil man, here to have a good time.” To the rest of the group, he said, much louder, “Drinks are on David tonight! Champagne for us all!” 

“Here, here!” Smitty agreed with a laugh. He held open the door to the main room of the boat, the playing room that took up the entire first floor. Poker tables stretched from each side of the room, with the far side being occupied by a full bar. A piano was stationed in the corner, with a man playing jaunty tunes to liven up the room. 

Craig observed the room for a second, and found his mark for the night. He leaned towards the other outlaws, and said, “I’m going to go play, you boys have fun.” 

“I think I’ll go as well,” Smitty agreed, slipping off into the crowd after Craig.

Nogla turned to John then nodded towards the bar. “Drink?” 

John raised an eyebrow. “You remember what we told you? About pretending?” 

“Calm down, Ma, I’ll be watchin’ myself. Besides, I only play poker when I drink. Come on, let’s find somethin’ to loosen you up.” 

“This is a  _ job _ , Nogla,” John reminded him with exasperation. He still trailed after the Irishman man as he wound around the various tables.

“And I aim to do it right.”

John had to hand it to Nogla. The man could talk up a real storm about anything and everything.

Having stationed himself close enough to the poker table to see Desmond Plythe’s cards yet far enough away to be inconspicuous, John knew the majority of his job tonight would consist of waiting. 

Waiting for Nogla to need him, specifically. Need him to rig the game even more than it was. 

But Nogla was simply a natural at poker, and had the men sat at the table wrapped around his finger in no time. 

Charismatic, loud, and slightly goofy seemed to be Nogla’s personality for the night. And with it, he was raking in the winnings. Talking nonsense about the oil industry, lamenting the lack of a wife, talking down people who were too cowardly to go after what they wanted, the usual rantings of rich men who’ve had too much to drink. 

Nogla even gave Desmond Blythe the courtesy of winning the first round to really sell the act. Then he got that glint in his eyes, and his focus was on the game at hand. 

John sat back in his chair with a drink in hand, and waited for the night to end.

Nogla couldn’t withhold his smile as he laid his cards down on the table. “Sorry to do this to you, mister, but it does seem like I’ve been told a lie.” He swept all the chips from the center of the table - Desmond Blythe having gone all in on a whim - and began restacking them neatly in front of him. 

“And what lie would that be?” Blythe seethed, cracking his knuckles with a fierce scowl. 

“That they were some big men on this boat,” Nogla said simply, keeping his eyes on his chips. “Guess that ain’t you, and no offence, but-” 

“You sit your hillbilly ass back down and play like you mean it,” Desmond Blythe demanded. 

Nogla cocked his head. “What’re you playin’ with?” 

“I got a watch.” 

“Aw, look at you.” 

“An  _ expensive _ watch,” Desmond Blythe hissed. “A Swiss contraption worth more than you are, in the safe upstairs. Play me for it.” 

“I’d love to.”

“ _Dammit_!” Desmond Blythe slammed his fist onto the table. “I can’t believe this bullshit!” He caught himself, and offered a smile that didn’t do anything to hide the frustration still boiling. “No offence, Mister Daithi.” 

“None taken,” Nogla raised his hands in the air, offering his hand out over the ace-high diamond flush that had won him the round. “Good game, Mister Blythe.”

“With all due respect, I think it’s best if I don’t,” Desmond Blythe told him, eyeing his hand with a glare. 

“Well won!” Another man, well-dressed even by the riverboat standards, approached the table. “I’m surprised to see someone gave Mister Blythe here a run for his money, so to speak.” 

“Speakin’ of,” Nogla stood up. “And pardon my lack of discretion, but where might I find this watch?”

“Right this way, Mister-” 

“Daithi, thank you.” Nogla followed the well-dressed man away from the poker table. “Quite an event you got goin’ on here, sir.” 

The man preened. “We do our best of giving admirable gentlemen - such as yourself - a night of joy to escape from the hardships of their lives. And sometimes their wives.” 

Nogla hardly paid attention to him; he was too busy scanning the boat as they passed through room after room, up some stairs and onto the top deck. As he suspected, there were guards a-plenty and nowhere to go if the heat got turned up. 

“Here we are!” The well-dressed man gestured to an office situated up on the very top of the boat, adjacent to the pilot’s house. The interior of the office was well-decorated and pristine, with a large, black safe situated in the middle of the far wall. Two guards were on either side, both of them looking at Nogla with a tired caution. 

“Please, wait right there, if you don’t mind,” The man offered a courteous smile as he rounded his desk to get to the safe. 

Staying on the other side of the wooden desk, Nogla rocked on the balls of his feet as he awaited his prize. 

The door to the safe swung open, and Nogla’s heart skipped a beat. 

Jewelry took up most of the upper shelf of the safe, all organized very neatly with name cards denoting what was whose. Stacks of bills occupied the second, hundreds of dollars just sitting there. 

If Nogla had had his gun, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill every idiot in the room and clear the safe. As it was, however, he knew his limits. 

He simply took the Swiss watch with a grin, and took his leave. 

“It was enough to set us up for life three times over,” Nogla lamented to Craig as they stood on the main deck, leaning over the railing and admiring the river as they passed by. The event was nearing its end, and the docks of Saint Denis were in sight. 

“I’m aware, I saw the damn thing too,” Craig spat. “We could rob it,” He said, half-musing and half-serious. “If… if we get it right when the boat is at the docks, and we just fuckin’ book it out of there? I think we could do it.” 

Nogla hated that he was considering the plan. “How’re we gonna get up there?” 

“This.” Craig produced a slip of paper with scratchy handwriting. “I never redeemed my last game’s winnings. Something told me not to, and I’m glad I listened.” 

Nogla looked at the paper, then back at Craig. “You really think we can do this?” 

“Are we not some of the most wanted outlaws this side of the Mississippi River?” 

Nogla was quiet for a spell, thinking over his options. The score from the safe could definitely put them on the right track. On the other hand, they had already made off well-enough tonight without the law being set on them. 

“If you help me do this,” Craig said, turning to face Nogla with a hopeful smile. “The entire family will be so grateful. Out west is a fresh start for us, one we all desperately need. Don’t you wanna be the one who helped get us there?” 

“Alright,” Nogla said, nodding rapidly. “Let’s do this.” 

The well-dressed man bent down to open the safe once more. “I didn’t realize you two gentlemen knew each other.” 

“Yes, we met at the post office,” Craig told him, inching closer to the guard on the right.

Nogla followed along, getting closer to the left one. “This one had taken my package, claiming it as his own. We got to talking from there, apparently our wives like to buy from the same company.” 

“Women do seem to enjoy similar things,” The man agreed well enough. 

The moment that he had opened the safe, hell broke loose. 

Nogla grabbed the butt of the guard’s rifle and brought it up to his temple with enough force to knock his lights out, possibly permanently. He then swung the rifle around to the well-dressed man, hitting him on the back and sending him to the ground. 

Craig was on the floor choking the other guard out with his rifle, so Nogla took the liberty of pressing his boot to the well-dressed man’s throat with enough force to limit his air supply but not cut it off completely. 

The guard underneath Craig stopped moving, but the outlaw didn’t let up until he was sure he was dead. 

“We killin’ ‘em?” Nogla hissed, glancing down to the man under his boot. 

“They’ve seen us, yes!” 

With a sigh, Nogla took a step back, only to kick the well-dressed man as hard as he could. The man’s neck snapped, and his head dropped to the floor like a brick.

Craig swung the door to the safe open, and smiled with malicious glee. “Let’s load up.” 

Smitty groaned and checked his pocket watch for the third time in the last minute. “Do you think they’re in trouble?” 

John looked to the carriage driver and shook his head. “Everything’s quiet, I’m sure they’re fine.” 

“They should’ve been here five minutes ago.” 

“Love, they’re fine. They’re grown men, they can take care of themselves for a few minutes.” 

Smitty pursed his lips, and lowered himself in the seat so he could rest his head on the back and look to the night sky. “If they aren’t back soon, we’ll have to go-” 

“Hello, hello, hello!” Craig shouted, jumping up onto the carriage with manic glee and a  _ lot _ of jingling coming from his coat. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?” 

Nogla clambered in after him, shoving Smitty to the side as he took a seat. “Aye, driver, can we hurry it up? Best we get away rather quickly.” 

“What did you two do?” John asked, brows furrowed as he searched the two outlaws up and down. 

Craig just smiled. “We took advantage of an opportunity, that’s all.” 

Smitty shot up in his seat. “Did you rob the safe?” 

Nogla shrugged. “A little. But we got away fine, no trouble, no witnesses, it’s fine-” 

“No witnesses, so you killed those guards?” 

“They won’t know it was us,” Craig told them, voice suddenly serious and manic glee cooling. “And now, we’re several thousand dollars richer.” 

“You’ve put us in unnecessary danger,” John snapped, gesturing to himself and Smitty. “We have to fence that gold, and now it’s going to be too hot to sell.”

“Then we wait to sell it,” Craig said as if it were obvious. “You can try all you fucking want, but I did the right thing here.” 

“We went through every precaution we could,” Nogla added. “Trust me, we pulled this off.” 

“I can’t believe this,” Smitty groaned. “You better hope and pray that this doesn’t blow up in your face.” 

“It won’t,” Craig said with the confidence of a preacher telling someone they’re going to Hell.

Evan liked the gazebo that came with Shady Belle. It was a little broken, and moldy, and probably a hazard to be on, but it was nice. It was relatively secluded from the rest of camp. 

It was from there that he watched as the gang celebrated.

From what he gathered, it was a good take. About two thousand in bills, another three to four in jewelry. All from a poker night on a riverboat. No law called on them to boot. 

Part of him was overjoyed. That take, along with the score from the bank in Valentine, and they were so close to their goal. One more good score, and there would be nothing stopping them.

Another part of him was tired. The goal was ever shifting, more people were getting in the way, the route out west was still too dangerous to take.

“You’re moping.” 

Evan jumped about two feet in the air from the sudden voice that came from his right. Then he saw a flash of silver hair and a shit-eating grin. “Kelly, don’t do that!” 

Her crackle was loud enough to cover the merriments from the rest of the gang. “Your face was fucking priceless, of course I’ll never stop doing that! But as my apology, here.” She placed a cup and a bottle of whiskey down on the rickety table.

“Why?” 

“Figured I’d bring some of the celebratory joy over here for you, since you seem so inclined to stay away from it all.” 

Evan huffed. “I just don’t feel like dealing with Nogla’s same three songs he plays over and over again.” 

“You say that like you even know the words to them. None of us do.” She produced another cup from somewhere, and began pouring out the whiskey. “You know, I kinda get why you wanna be all gloomy all the fuckin’ time, but I really think it would do you some good to just… let go for a moment, you know?” 

“You aren’t a psychiatrist, Kelly.” 

“Thank God for that, but my point stands. You focus too much on the past, o-or the future.” She slid an  _ extremely _ full cup of whiskey over to him. “You forget to enjoy the present.”

Evan eyed the cup warily. 

“I didn’t drug it.” 

“I don’t believe you.” And yet he took it anyway. He sipped, then drank a little more. Enough for the warmth to begin pooling in his stomach. 

Kelly drank some of her own, and turned her gaze to the gang celebrating around the campfire. Dances had begun, and even Brock and Lauren were in on then fun. 

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this,” Kelly started softly, tapping her nails against the side of her cup. “But Ty’s working hard to get us away from here.” 

“Right.” 

Kelly turned to him, looking at him with a sort of emotion he didn’t like. “It’s your dream life, Evan. He’ll walk to Hell and back to give it to you. Jon too.” She managed a small, half-smile. “The love you three have, it’s honestly sickening how sweet it is. Once in a lifetime thing, that’s for damn sure.”

Evan said nothing. He found he couldn’t speak. He could just drink, and so he did.

Kelly took a sobering breath, and stood. “Well, I’ll leave you to your moping. G’night, Ev.” 

“Night, Kell.”

After that, Evan waited. 

He waited until the festivities had died down, and people began retiring to bed. He watched as Chrissy shepherded an inebriated Scotty into his tent, and hadn’t reappeared after that. 

He watched as Brian, Lauren, and Brock all stayed around the fire, huddled close to each other as their daughter slept away inside the house, watched over by Simone.

He watched as Tyler and Jonathan retired for the night. 

Evan gathered his resolve, and went after them. 

The stairs creaked underneath his boots, and he winced with every noise. 

When he entered the master bedroom, it felt like coming home. 

Jonathan was sitting at the end of the bed and wiping down his guns. Tyler sat at the other end, back to the headboard, writing in his notebook. 

It was to Tyler that Evan went first, grasping the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a long-awaited kiss. 

Tyler tasted of cigarettes and love. 

Before he could get too lost in it, Evan pulled away and went for Jonathan. 

Jon dropped his most-favored guns onto the floor so he could wrap his arms around Evan as they pressed their lips together. 

“I’m still pissed with both of you,” Evan said as he broke the kiss, stepping back enough to let Tyler into their space. “But I’ve missed you,” His voice was hardly above a whisper. 

“We’ve missed you too,” Tyler told him, pulling Evan down onto the bed with them. 

Jonathan took Evan’s hand in his, gripping tightly as if he were afraid to let go. “You gonna stay here tonight?”

“And the night after, and the one after that, and as long as you’ll have me.” Evan laid down on the bed, right in between the two of them. 

Tyler laid down as well, propping himself up so he could still look at Evan like he was surprised the man was there. “We’ll have you forever, if you’ll have us the same.” 

“As if you have to ask.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice bit of happiness to carry y'all until I get the next update out, lol. Hope y'all are doing well and staying healthy out there!


	31. well ain't this a surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler tries to plan the gang's next move in Saint Denis, only to be interrupted rather rudely in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College isn't as fun as people said it would be. Just thought y'all should know. Also, I had to rewrite this chapter like four times so it's a bit late but also I have very little free time to write.

Tyler couldn’t help himself. He started pacing around what was left of the desiccated balcony. The portion that was accessible from the master bedroom was stable enough that Tyler was fairly sure the wood wouldn’t break underneath him. 

Evan hated when he paced. He claimed that watching it made him more nervous, not to mention the unnecessary wear he was putting his boots through. 

Tyler didn’t care about that right now, since Evan was out with Jon doing whatever.

When pacing wasn’t enough to quell his nerves, Tyler lit up a cigarette as well. It didn’t help other than busying his hands for a brief moment.

He despised it when his nerves acted up like this. He hated to doubt himself; that wasn’t what a leader should do. A leader should be confident in their actions, confident in their choices. 

So why was Tyler so damn uncertain right now? 

“I shouldn’t be,” He answered himself. He looked around to make sure no one heard him, and took another drag of his cigarette. 

He tensed when he heard two sets of footsteps stomping through the house, creating enough noise to alert damn near everything in the swamps to their presence. 

“Damn, y’all been living it up in here while I’ve been slumming it outside?” Craig’s annoyed voice filtered through the broken walls. 

Tyler prepared himself mentally for more bickering. “I’m up here, idiots!” He called out to them. 

“Boss, can I  _ please _ move my shit into the house too? It’s not fair this dumbass gets to sleep in here and I have to listen to Nogla’s caustic fuckin’ snoring all night.” Craig shoved open the doors with a flourish, sending them to walls with enough force that Tyler’s pretty sure he saw a splinter or four fly off. 

“Sorry, man, house is at full capacity,” Brian answered for their leader. 

“That’s bullshit!” 

Tyler rolled his eyes. “And I didn’t ask you two dumbasses here to argue with me over it.” 

“So what are we here for, Tyler?” Brian pulled out his own pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and pointedly ignoring Craig’s outreached hand asking for one.

Tyler rolled his eyes and handed Craig one from his pack. “I took a peek at the trolley station.” 

Brian’s right eye twitched. “You believe that cunt Bronte?”

Tyler gave him a threadbare smile. “Dunno if I believe him so much as I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.” 

“If he truly runs the city like he claims, why in the world would he help us steal from it? He had us kill those graverobbers, did he not?” 

“I can’t tell you the answer, ‘cause I don’t know it. What I do know is that Bronte says there’s money, so I’m going to find out for sure. If you two wanna be all yellow and give up on this with your tails between your legs, that’s fine by me.”

Craig raised his hand to cover Brian’s face. “Barring the fact that Bronte could very well be lying to us, have any of us actually robbed in a city before?” 

Tyler grinned. “The only difference between robbing a city and robbing a town is how damn fast you gotta get out of there. Other than that, shit’s the same.”

Brian shoved Craig’s hand away from his face. “I highly doubt-” His words were cut short by a thunderous pain erupting in his shoulder, knocking him back with the shock of it all. Then the sound of the gunshot registered, and panic followed. 

Tyler shoved Brian to the ground to keep him out of sight, and hid behind a pillar. More gunshots rang out, seemingly from all around them, splintering the walls and chipping the pillars all around them. 

“We’re under attack!” Someone shouted from below them. “Brock, get Lauren in the fucking house!” 

“Lauren!” Brian tried to get up using his wounded arm, only for him to give a strangled cry when it crumpled underneath him. 

Tyler peeked around the pillar, and saw movement in the treeline. He found Chrissy herding Lauren into the house, and dashed inside the house for his rifle, grabbing Evan’s as well before heading back out. He threw the other rifle to Criag and took his stance behind the pillar once more.

“Brian, get inside, and keep them safe!” Tyler ordered as he set his his sights on the treeline and began firing

He barely registered the Irishman stumbling inside, too focused on protecting his gang.

“Who the fuck are these guys?” Craig shouted to anyone who could hear him, hardly pausing to breathe as he shot round after round at these pricks.

“Who cares, just kill them!” Tyler replied. He tried to count how many there were, but they kept moving too fast and dying too easily to get a read on the situation. 

They just fucking kept coming down the main road, running out of cover like absolute fools. One of them had a stick of dynamite and was ready to toss it, only to be met with a bullet through the eye from Kelly. 

When enough of them had been cleared, Tyler grabbed Craig’s arm and shoved him into the house. “Go cover the front!” 

“Yes, boss!” Craig ran down the steps, shoving past the Barrus’s and their screaming baby to go meet the chaos head on.

Evan had been having a lovely fucking day. Hanging around camp with Jonathan, helping out the chores. Enjoying life for a moment - God knows he needed it. 

Then these pricks attacked. “What the hell is going on?” He shouted, angrily reloading his revolver as he hid behind the broken gazebo. 

“There’s a wagon incoming!” Chrissy warned them from somewhere amidst the turmoil. 

“Fall back to the house!” Ohm yelled. 

Evan watched as another fifteen men got off the wagon, and decided he’d had enough of this nonsense. He grabbed the two sticks of dynamite he’d been hoarding for a special occasion, and lit them both. 

“Watch the hell out!” He warned his family before tossing both the sticks near the wagon, one to the left and the other to the right. 

He counted down in his head, and they exploded. A shower of gore and dirt rained over that area of the camp, and there were two sizable holes in the ground now. 

Most of the attackers were very much dead.

But not all of them; Evan heard a very high-pitched scream come from back behind him, towards the edge of the swamps. 

Without a second thought he ran towards it, reloading his pistol as he went. 

He rounded the remains of a shed just in time for a splatter of blood and bits of something to hit him right in the face. 

He flinched, then froze. 

Simone stood over two dead bodies, shotgun in her hands and blood splattered all over her. 

The bodies on the ground were missing most of their skulls. 

Simone looked furious. “They tried to grab me!” She told Evan, giving the nearest corpse a good kick. “Bastards thought they could.” 

“You definitely showed them,” Evan said, hesitating to step forward and try to corral her away from this mess. 

Simone didn’t need the encouragement. She began walking to the house, pressing the shotgun into Evan’s hands with a grimace as she passed by. 

It was only then that he saw her arm was glistening with blood. 

“You need help-” He tried to say. 

“And you need to get back out there,” She cut him off and pushed him towards the front of the house. “I’ll be fine, just go!” 

Another round of gunshots went off, and all Evan could do was run back into the fray.

There was one left; Craig had managed to keep him alive instead of sending a bullet through his brain like he really wanted to. 

Instead, he knocked the idiot down, hogtied him, and dragged him back to the main house. 

“What’re you doin’?” Nogla asked, running to keep up with them. He maintained a vice-like grip on his rifle, and his eyes kept flicking back to the road. He hated feeling unsafe in camp, he hated it more than just about anything else. 

Craig grunted. “Don’t you wanna find out who these pricks are?” 

Tyler burst through the doors of the main house, face burning with rage. “Any casualties?” He barked to anyone near him. 

“None,” Ohm reported, jogging up to them with Tiny the dog held firmly in his arms. 

“A few injuries, but nothing major,” Jonathan corrected, appearing from behind Tyler. 

The hostage let out a groan and began shifting within his bindings. 

Jaw set and gaze blistering, Tyler descended the front steps down to greet him. He crouched down so he was beside the man’s torso. Craig went to the man’s other side, ready to restrain him further if needed. 

“Who are you?” Tyler asked, voice cold as the metal of the knife that had made its way into his hand. 

“Fuck you!” The man spat. 

Tyler hardly flinched as the glob of bloodied spit landed on his cheek; he wiped it off and slammed his elbow down onto the back of the man’s head. 

A satisfying crack echoed around them as the man’s face hit the ground and he began howling with pain. 

Tyler pressed his free hand to the man’s throat and leaned on it enough to get him to stop thrashing. “Who the hell are you?” He demanded, louder this time. “Why attack us!”

“Blevins told us too,” The man seethed. “Told us to wipe you out like the vermin you are!” 

“Where is he?” 

The man laughed, an awful choking sound. “Like I’d tell y-” 

Tyler flipped his knife, and plunged it into the man’s thigh. The man jerked up to escape only for Tyler to pin him to the ground with a boot to his back.

“Where is Tyler Blevins?” The outlaw seethed. 

“I don’t know! I swear it, I swear on my momma, he left before we went off, I swear-” 

With a groan, Tyler yanked his knife from the man’s leg and sank it into his heart. 

He was dead by the time Tyler had stood to his full height. As he brushed himself off, he noticed most of the gang had gathered around him and the hostage, watching with mild horror or satisfied anger. 

Evan and Jonathan were on the outskirts, looking at him with neutral expressions.

Tyler ignored them for now. “Nogla, Craig, set up a perimeter. Keep watch tonight, make sure no more come out. The rest of you, put the bodies in one of the wagons. Take them far into the swamp, give the gators a nice meal.” He’d barely finished speaking before he turned on his heel and entered the main house. 

Craig looked after him for a moment, deciding if he should go after him. He decided not, figuring the boss needed some time to himself. So he turned to the crowd, who hadn’t moved. “Well?” he asked, gesturing wildly with his arms. “We got work to do!”

It’d been around an hour since the Blevins idiots had attacked. 

It’d been around an hour since anyone had seen hide nor hair of Tyler. 

“I’m gonna take a break,” Evan told Jonathan after he’d deposited another body onto the wagon. It was pretty full at this point, with it sinking a little on the wheels. If they loaded it up any further, they wouldn’t be able to get it through the muck. 

Jonathan nodded. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. “Me too. I’ll get us some dinner.” 

“Get some for Ty, he should eat too.” 

“Sure thing. We’ll eat with him, then, I’m sure he’s been working himself into a frenzy” 

Evan waited by the doors to the main house. He watched as the gang continued to load bodies into wagons after searching them for anything valuable. He watched as Chrissy and Kelly began driving the first full wagon away to drop the bodies in the swamps. 

“You okay?” Jonathan asked as he reappeared with dinner rations. “You’re chewing on your lip again.” 

Evan licked his lips and was mildly shocked when he tasted blood. He thought he’d stomped out that habit, but apparently not. “Just thinking,” He replied, reaching out for some of the food. 

No hot stew tonight, just canned goods and bread. 

“Thinking about what?” Jon asked as they entered the house. 

They both nodded to Lauren and her baby and continued up the stairs.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” Evan lamented quietly. 

Jon could only shake his head. “No, it shouldn’t have. How the fuck did they find out where we are?” 

Evan used his elbow to open the door to the master bedroom, where Tyler had been trying to pace a hole through the floor again. “Couldn’t tell ya, but if they found us, the Pinkertons can’t be far behind.” 

“The Pinkertons have no way of knowing where we are,” Tyler interjected sternly. “We lost them when we moved camp.” 

“We thought that applied to Blevins as well,” Jonathan countered, not unkindly. He plopped a couple cans of various veggies onto the bed. “Anyways, here’s dinner.” 

“Maybe we should move camp again, just to be safe,” Evan said as he sat on the floor to eat. He wasn’t about to get food in the bed, no thank you. 

“Where would we go?” Tyler asked. 

Jonathan snorted. “West?” 

“You know we can’t.” 

“Except we could.” 

“Not this again.” 

“Why won’t you go through with it?” Jon demanded, abandoning his dinner in favor of glaring at Tyler. “Why do you act like moving west will solve all of our problems but then turn around and push it off? What the hell are you scared of?”

“I’m not scared of anything, I’m just fucking worried!” Tyler threw down his can as well. “What happens when we get out there and we don’t have the money to buy land? What happens then?” 

“We do what we always do and we steal until we can!” Jonathan tried not to yell, but he wasn’t really succeeding. “God, it’s like you don’t even want this anymore. Do you, Tyler? Do you even want to leave this shithole behind?” 

“Of course I do, but it isn’t that easy. We need to make sure the Pinkertons won’t follow us, we need to ensure that we have enough for a fresh start-” 

Jonathan scoffed. “Then let’s go right now before you fuck up again in Saint Denis or  _ God forbid _ we have another Blackwater. Let’s leave before another ‘incredible idea’ goes wrong and someone else dies.” 

“That wasn’t my fault,” Tyler said, jaw clenched and anger boiling beneath the surface. “What happened in Blackwater wasn’t my fucking fault.”

“That’s funny, I didn’t say it was,” Jonathan challenged. 

Evan clambered onto the bed to put himself in between the two of them. “Both of you, just stop! We’ve all had a long day and we’re all pissed, so let’s just take a deep fucking breath and calm down before anyeone says something they regret.” 

Jonathan gave Tyler one more hard glare before doing as he was told. Deep breathing didn’t help his anger, but Evan’s expression thoroughly warned against anything other than listening to him. 

Tyler switched his attention to his dinner once more. 

Evan waited a moment, to see if they would break this sudden and unstable stalemate. When it seemed like it’d last for the time being, he left the bed to reclaim his spot on the floor. 

It was quiet for a few moments. The only noises were the sounds of forks clinking against the inside of metal cans. 

So of course, someone had to knock on the door and disturb the tentative peace. 

“Come in,” Tyler called out, setting down his emptied can and standing up. 

The door swung open, and there was Brian and Craig. The former was shirtless, his upper torso wrapped heavily in bandages. The latter just looked pissed. 

“Brian, what the fuck are you doing here? You should be resting!” Tyler rushed to the door, bringing the Irishman into their room and setting him on the bed. 

“I’m fine, fuck, it just hurts like hell,” Brian waved him off with a wave of his uninjured arm. “The bullet was a through and through, I’ll be just dandy soon enough.” 

“Didn’t answer the question of what the hell you two are doing here,” Jonathan told them. 

Craig sneered at him. “We’re reporting to our  _ boss _ the state of his camp.”

“Which is?” 

“Everyone else is fine. Simone got cut a bit, but she’s alright. This idiot is the only one who got shot.” 

“Fuck off,” Brian snapped, harsher than a wild dog. “We also came to figure out our next move.” 

Jonathan snorted.

Craig ignored it. “Are we still going to hit the trolley station like you was talking about?” 

Evan turned to Tyler, eyebrows raised. 

Jonathan clicked his tongue. “You can’t really be wanting to do that, right? That’s too risky for so many goddamn reasons, and on top of being attacked  _ in our camp _ ? Come on, Tyler, you have to know better.” 

Tyler glared at everyone around him. “We’re still hitting the trolley,” He said firmly. 

“That… really?” Brian leveled a very concerned look at their leader. “You’re sure about that?” 

“What the fuck do you want from me? This attack changes nothing.” 

“It should change everything!” Jonathan jumped up from the bed, gesturing wildly at all of them. “We need to leave!” 

Brian nodded. “I agree.” 

“With what money?” Craig interjected. 

“We have more than enough, you dumb bastard.” 

“If we did, we would’ve left by now.” 

Jonathan laughed, a cruel and harsh sound. “I’m gonna shoot you both right through the eye, I swear to God.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Craig asked, narrowing his gaze at Jon. 

“We got randomly attacked by a group of assholes that weren’t supposed to find us, we’re stuck in this shithole of a city, only now does  _ one  _ of you think that we should leave and you two still wanna go on a damn suicide mission! That’s what the hell is wrong with me!” Jonathan’s voice rose to a shout. 

A light spark of pain started up in the back of Evan’s head. Unwilling to suffer through it getting worse, he simply stood up and left the room without a word. 

Jonathan watched him go, torn between wanting to follow him and wanting to stay in on this impromptu meeting. 

“Shit’s getting dangerous around here,” Brian said, tone of voice much softer after watching Evan leave them behind. “Blevins won’t follow us across the country, even he doesn’t hate you that much. Bronte, though, he’s a different beast altogether.” 

Craig leaned against the wall, letting his head thump against the flaking drywall. “He’s nothing but a snake. Won’t leave his nest to follow us west.” 

Tyler shook his head. “Especially not if we make enough noise here. Make everyone think we’re still here, even after we’ve left this all behind.” 

“ _ If  _ we leave this behind,” Jonathan corrected him with a glare.

“ _ When _ ,” Tyler shot back. 

“The trolley station won’t be loud for that,” Brian mentioned bitterly. 

“Then we move on to bigger, better things,” Tyler mused. “We’ll start with the trolley, like we planned. I’ve got a few ideas of what to do next.” 

Jonathan shook his head. “This is way too risky and you fucking know it.” 

“I also know that we don’t have much of a choice,” Tyler told him. “I’m putting my foot down on this.” 

All at once, the fight left Jon. He sagged back onto the bed, exhaustion rolling in waves over him. “Alright.” 

Brian and Craig looked at each other and had a rare moment of mutual understanding. 

“Trolley tomorrow, boss?” Craig asked as Brian stood up to leave. 

“Yeah, tomorrow. Now please get the fuck out. Send Evan back up if you pass him.” 

“Will do. G’night.” 

The door closed behind them, leaving Tyler and Jon in an uneasy silence. Jonathan leaned back onto the bed, appetite more or less gone by this point. He took off his boots and scooted back up towards the headboard. 

“Jon, I-” 

“Save it, Ty,” Jonathan gave him a tired smile. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing. It’s fine.” 

Evan knocked once out of habit before entering, looking just as tired. 

Tyler remained standing. “Just one more job, and we’ll be gone,” he tried. 

Evan nodded without really looking at him. “Sure. You coming to bed?” 

“I- yeah.” 

With three grown men, there’s only so much space to be spared on a bed, no matter the size. That night, however, it seemed as if either Evan or Jonathan had conjured up more, just to create as much space in between them all as they could. 

Tyler had never felt more lonely than he did that night. He also felt that it was slightly deserved. But he had never been more determined to give his lovers their happily ever after. They deserved it for putting up with him and everything that came with him for so long. 

And to deliver their dream, he’d need money. It was a good thing that he was willing to walk through Hell and back for them. Who knows - one day, he might have to. 


	32. a snake told a story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bronte had mentioned the trolley station, and now Tyler's going through with robbing it. It goes wrong, which everyone expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, my bad about the month-long wait. Didn't mean for that to happen, and hopefully it won't happen again. Nevertheless, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

Nogla hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. It just happened. 

He’d been grooming his horse when he heard Tyler and Brian approach. Having assumed he’d been seen and just ignored - Nogla wasn’t exactly trying to hide, nor was attention being spared when it came to the boss - he stayed where he was and continued brushing out the knots that had taken root in his poor horse’s mane. 

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious?” Brian demanded, sounding furiously shocked. 

“I am,” came Tyler’s stern reply. “You’re injured, you should take it easy.” 

Brian’s scoff was heartfelt. “You’re shittin’ me right? You’ve done the same shite when injured worse!” 

“This isn’t about me-” 

“For fuck’s sake, Tyler, I’m  _ fine _ .” 

There was a light thunk, and a grunt of pain. Nogla kept his eyes on his horse. 

“ _ What the hell was that _ ?” Brian’s voice sounded strained. 

“See? You’re in pain. You shouldn’t come with us.” 

Brian let out several noises of disbelief. “You  _ punched _ me! You scumbag, you punched my arm, of course I’m in pain!” 

“And you should be resting.” 

“Are you sure this is about me bein’ injured?” Brian hissed. 

Nogla finally looked up, interest piqued and concern rising. Brian was holding a hand to his injured shoulder and looking at Tyler as if the boss had just spat on him. 

“What could that mean?” Tyler’s calm never broke. 

"You know damn well what it means.” Brian took a step forward. “I’m the one who doubts this idiotic plan in the first place.” 

Tyler’s eyebrow twitched. “Yet I know that you wouldn’t jeopardize it if things got tough. I don’t doubt your loyalty, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” 

Brian examined him for a moment longer, eyes boring into his soul. Then he stepped back, further than he’d been standing before. “You and Craig are gonna get us all killed,” He muttered, low enough to hardly be audible. 

Tyler heard him, though. If the clenching of his jaw was anything to go by. 

“You should take someone in my place,” Brian said, less angry, more resigned. “No reason you need to get yourself killed so soon.” 

Nogla hated himself for it, but he found himself stepping around his horse. “I’ll go,” He offered simply. 

Both Tyler and Brian whirled their gazes on him, neither betraying their inner thoughts. 

Eventually, Tyler smiled. “Good on you, Nogla. I’ll go get Craig, and we head out.” He quickly left, hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

When he was sure they were alone, Brian finally looked at Nogla. He was still angry, that much was obvious. Yet there was something else, something hesitant about his scowl. 

“Don’t go bein’ a hero,” Brian said tightly. He deemed that enough for now, and left to head back to the main house. 

Nogla watched him go, unable to say anything more. 

Despite knowing what they were planning to do, Nogla had held out hope that they weren’t going to rob the trolley station, and instead go for something else. 

At least, that had been his hope until they hitched their horses just around the corner. They watched people go in and out, just examining for the moment. 

“We’re really doing this,” Nogla murmured, confirming it mostly to himself. 

Tyler looked at him as if he were dumb. “Well, I didn’t think we were fixing the plumbing,” he snarked. “Now, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but we are on a time crunch here.” 

Nogla swallowed down his objections, and took his bandanna out of his pocket. 

Craig and Tyler did the same, covering their faces and unholstering their weapons. 

“You ready?” Tyler asked, though it didn’t sound like he cared. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Nogla said. 

Together, the three outlaws crossed the street, and kicked down the door to the trolley station. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery!” Tyler announced, holding his pistol high in the air and walking over to the only employee. “But no one has to die!” 

Nogla corralled the small group of citizens into the corner of the station while Craig remained by the door.

“All we want is money,” Tyler continued. “Just hand it over, and no one gets shot today. Mister Daithi, why don’t you relieve these fine people of their valuables and then go and check that back room there. Mister Thompson, come join us over here.” 

Nogla did as he was told, and held his satchel out. “You heard the man, no one’s gotta die over this. Just give me your money, jewelry, whatever you have.” 

The women followed instructions, relieving themselves of their jewelry and throwing it into the satchel with tears streaming down their faces. The only man here, a young one with fire in his eyes, tried to stand up. 

Nogla just kicked his leg out from under him, and he tumbled to the floor in a heap. He turned to the backroom, figuring the citizens wouldn’t try anything with Tyler aiming a pistol at them. 

“Now open the gate so my acquaintance can check your safe,” Tyler demanded of the employee. 

Nogla spared a glance at the employee struggling with the iron gate separating him from the rest of the civilians. Then the gate was unlocked, and Nogla turned his attention to the back room once more. He searched the desk and ransacked the filing cabinet. The more he searched, the bigger the sinking feeling in his stomach grew.

“There’s nothing here,” He called out to the other outlaws. 

There was a brief pause. “You’re sure?” Tyler’s voice was strained. 

Nogla had to refrain from scoffing. “Yes, I’m sure! There’s nothing here!” 

“Well… come out here, and be ready for company. And you, open the safe for my friend.” 

When Nogla reentered the main room of the station, Craig was throwing the employee out of the gated work space and ransacking the safe.

Nogla did his best to stay away from the windows and watched as Craig got progressively angrier.

“There’s-” Craig cut himself off with a disbelieving chuckle. “There’s nothing here!” 

Tyler froze. “That’s impossible, Bronte said there was stacks of cash, check again-” 

“There’s nothing but a few dollars in coins!” Craig grabbed the coins and threw them onto the floor, startling the civilians behind Nogla.

Nogla was watching the shiny bits of metal scatter across the tile when a blur of blue caught the corner of his eye. He drifted to the window, and wanted to crumple in on himself. “Boys, we got company. A  _ lot _ of it.” 

At least ten cops were busy cutting off the only way out of the station, hiding behind crates and against the walls of buildings. 

“It was a fucking trap!” Nogla seethed, taking a step back and readying his weapon. 

“I knew it,” Craig muttered, leaving the gated area with fire in his eyes. 

“Now’s not the time for sarcasm,” Tyler told the both of them. He chanced a look out the back door, and lit up when he saw a beacon of hope approaching. “Come with me,” He said, slowly backing up while keeping his gaze on the gathering of cops. 

“Where’re we goin’, Ty?” Craig asked as he cocked the hammer on his revolver. 

Tyler gestured behind him. “We’re taking the trolley, boys!” He ran out the back door, barely checking if he was followed by his two companions before hopping onto the front car as it passed by. 

Nogla ran after Craig, making sure the other outlaw was on the trolley before he finally jumped onto the back; Craig grabbed his arm to pull him up as Tyler threw the conductor out of the front car and into the mud. 

“Gotta speed this fuckin’ thing up,” Tyler muttered to himself. He stationed himself before the controls and stared at them. 

“On your right!” Nogla yelled, shoving Craig to the ground. The windows shattered as bullets tore through them, sprinkling bits of glass over them. 

Craig bounced up in a single second, firing back with enough fervor to match however many policemen just shot at them. “You’re all gonna die and I’m gonna dance on your grave!” He shouted, words hardly audible over the gunfire.

Nogla ignored him for now, and focused on crawling up to where their boss was shooting much more calmly. “What’s the plan now?” He asked, taking stance beside him and waiting.

“I don’t know,” Tyler admitted through his clenched jaw. “I don’t fucking know, all I know is that Bronte is going to fucking pay!” 

“We can focus on that when we get out of here with our lives!” Nogla waited for Tyler to duck to reload, then sprang up. 

The policemen were easy to spot, wearing bright blue uniforms that stood out from the streets they were passing. Nogla downed six of them before he even had to reload. He crouched to do so while Tyler stood back up. “Try and stop this thing.”   
“I can’t drive no trolley!” Nonetheless, Nogla took the controls and tried to figure out what was going on. He attempted to think of it as a train, and pulled what looked like might serve as a brake. 

The lever broke under his grip, snapping off like a dead twig. Nogla threw it through the window with a huff. “Yeah, we ain’t stoppin’,” He said. 

“Fucking perfect.” Tyler shot another couple cops before taking a moment to think. His eyes roamed the streets, the cops still chasing after them, the buildings surrounding them. They were traveling west, which might be beneficial to them getting back to camp. He took note of the dilapidated buildings around them; they were tall, and seemingly empty. 

He looked out what was left of the trolley windows, and noticed only a few policemen still tailing them. There were surely more throughout the city, maybe even blocking the ways out, depending how tight Bronte wanted this trap to be. Tyler cursed under his breath once more, then got his companions’ attention. 

“Listen, idiots, we’re jumping out of this thing on my count!” Tyler crossed to the open door, and waited. 

“Why?” Craig demanded, slowly making his way closer to them while still doing his best to shoot the cops. 

Nogla took his place directly behind Tyler. “We can’t very well stay on this thing forever.” 

“So shut the fuck up, and  _ run _ !” Tyler jumped out the door, stumbling on the street before he caught himself and broke into a sprint. 

Nogla followed suit, not bothering to look behind him to see if Craig was with him; he just kept as close to his boss as he could, rounding tight corners and ducking into alleyways. “Where we goin’?” He hissed as they turned left into a tiny courtyard. 

“We need to get out of the city,” Tyler said like it wasn’t fucking obvious. He pulled his bandana off his face, using it to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. “Come on, we’re sticking to the alleys for now. Keep an eye out for something we can hide in to get out of here.” He pocketed his bandanna, straightened up, rolled his shoulders, and walked on through the maze of buildings they’d found themselves in. 

Craig finally caught up with them, huffing and puffing and looking generally pissed off. Nogla shushed him, and together they ventured behind their boss.

“This is the stupidest fucking idea you’ve ever had,” Craig whispered. 

Tyler elbowed him in the shoulder and pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle the string of expletives threatening to give away their position. “ _ Quiet _ !” He hissed. 

Nogla rolled his eyes at the both of them, and settled down as much as he could. 

The wagon they were hiding in began to move, lumbering slowly through the cobbled streets of Saint Denis. 

The driver didn’t seem to notice that their cargo - what had been crates of something being carried out of a local butcher’s shop - was now partially discarded and replaced with three outlaws. 

They hid behind a couple crates, made sure the canvas sheet thoroughly covered them, and waited. 

There was a small hole in the side of the wagon; through it, Nogla watched as the city passed by. 

Cops were lingering the streets, checking down alleys and shouting to each other. Still on the prowl for the evasive outlaws.

Nogla paused to glance at their boss. Tyler’s expression had gone empty, like it did when he was deep in thought. A scowl remained through the haze, and probably would for the rest of the evening. Tyler probably didn’t even know he was scowling. 

Left to his own thoughts, Nogla didn’t really know if he could label what Bronte did as a betrayal; betrayals usually imply a sort of trust that gets broken. He certainly didn’t trust Bronte’s word about the trolley, and he hoped Tyler wasn’t stupid enough to as well. 

Although, if this whole tryst was just that - a trustless gamble on Tyler’s part - then further explanations were needed. Something to justify their current situation of hiding on a wagon and being smuggled out of the city. 

His thoughts were disrupted by Craig rapidly tapping Tyler’s shoulder and jerking his head towards the front of the wagon. 

“Sir, pull over to the side, please.” A male voice, one with implied authority, asked of the driver. 

The wagon began to slow as it veered to the right. Eventually it stopped. All three outlaws hidden within tensed. 

Nogla peered through the cracked wood, and saw more blue uniforms. It took everything within him to not curse. 

“We’re searching everything that’s coming out of the city,” The cop told the driver. “Swanson, Walker, check the back.”

As quietly as he could, Tyler removed his revolver from its holster and cocked the hammer. “Driver, left or right?” he whispered so lowly it was hardly audible, even within the cramped confines of the wagon. 

Craig thought for a moment, then gestured to the left. 

Tyler nodded. He looked at Nogla, who then got out his weapons too. Tyler held up three fingers.

He put one down. Footsteps neared the wagon. 

He put a second finger down. The footsteps stopped. 

He put down the third. 

Nogla sprang up from the canvas cover and shot the two policemen through the throat. Tyler ripped the canvas off, and blew out the driver’s head. He threw himself over the edge of the wagon and onto the bench, where he yanked the reins from the dead driver’s hands and snapped them several times. 

The horses, startled from the noise, took off at a sprint. 

Craig fumbled with his gun, but eventually managed to start shooting the other cops - there were only three more, but they had just enough time to duck into some cover. 

Nogla shoved Craig over, and waited. 

Tyler kept his eyes on the road; a bridge was coming up, then they’d be fully out of Saint Denis. He’d have to go through the woods to be sure they lost track of the cops-

Bullets tore through one of the horses. It fell with an unholy screech, and the wagon tumbled off the side of the bridge.

Nogla blinked his eyes open, and was shocked to find himself able to do so. Then he heard shouting through the ringing in his ears, and knew the fight wasn’t over yet. 

He looked around him for cover. The wagon had fallen into the bed of a dried stream, with the banks rising up a couple feet on either side. 

He dragged himself up - fighting through a shit load of pain - and checked his gun. Four bullets left in the chamber, and three targets. A quick glance towards his companions told him they were unconscious. 

He pressed himself up against the bank of the stream, and waited. 

Soon enough, three idiotic faces popped up over the bridge to get a look. 

Nogla shot them all before they could even blink. Blood splattered down onto him, but that didn’t even phase him. He just holstered his gun, and limped over to the wreckage of their wagon.

Simone had been reading a dime novel when she heard her name being called from outside. Closing her book with a sigh, she went to investigate. 

And of course, it was a bloodied up Nogla on the back of an injured horse, with Craig and Tyler both unconscious and slung over the back. 

“I’m gonna need some help!” Simone called out, already rushing over to help Nogla down. “Someone carry these two inside!” 

As soon as she had finished her sentence, help was on the way. Aliyah came to help Nogla into the medical tent, and Brian and Kelly came to get the other two. 

Craig blinked away when he got gathered into Kelly’s arms. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” She remarked. 

He just groaned and closed his eyes. 

Simone took off her nice gloves, and opened her mouth to demand a fresh wash basin, only for Evan to already be carrying on in. She nodded to him, and set to work. 

She started examining Nogla as Kelly placed Craig onto the floor. 

“What the fuck happened?” Aliyah demanded, holding tightly onto his hand. 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and jerked his head towards the unconscious outlaws currently on the ground. “Those idiots is what happened.” 

“Your back is bleeding,” Simone noticed, eyeing the red stain decorating the edges of numerous tears in what used to be a white shirt. 

“Ain’t surprised,” He said simply. He let go of Aliyah’s hand just long enough to take off his shirt, then latched right back onto her. “Our wagon took a tumble. I landed on my back.” 

“I see,” Simone said. And she did - scrapes and lacerations ran up and down his back, red and angry looking. 

Brian and Kelly entered with a still unconscious Tyler held between them and a concerned Evan on their heels. 

“Put him on the cot, and then I need everyone who isn’t injured out!” Simone commanded, not bothering to look away from Nogla’s wounds as she went about cleaning them.

Tyler had dragged himself back from the consciousness just in time to see Simone wrapped Craig’s arm tightly with gauze. 

“Fucking hell, take it easy!” Craig demanded, squirming viciously under his grip. 

Simone just rolled her eyes and shoved a bottle of whiskey into his free hand. “You’re arm is broken and I need to set it! Stop whining!” 

Tyler stared groggily at them, eyes unseeing and mind blurred. Simone noticed this and assumed he had a head injury. But it could wait. 

“There,” Simone released Craig’s arm. “The worst is over.”

Craig said nothing, too busy downing as much whiskey as he could without puking it back up. 

Simone grabbed two flat pieces of wood, setting them on either side of Craig’s arm. She took a strip of fabric, recycled from Nogla’s ruined shirt, and began wrapping. Through the years, Simone had gotten good at making these kinds of splints. She quickly finished her task, patting Craig absentmindedly on the shoulder. “You’re done, now get out.” 

He didn’t hesitate to leave, taking the nearly empty liquor bottle with him. 

Simone moved to sit in front of Tyler, and held his jaw with one hand and examined the bloody wound on his head with her other. 

There was a small gash, nothing too serious. The worst was the bruises forming, visible even under his dark hair. Definitely a head injury. 

“Hey, Ty, can you hear me?” She asked slowly, meeting his unfocused gaze. 

It took a moment, but he nodded. 

“Follow me finger,” She suggested. She held up her hand, index finger pointed up. Moving it from left to right, she watched as he did his best to keep his eyes trained on it. He did well enough, but she could tell it was difficult for him. 

“You’re an idiot,” She murmured. She cleaned up the gash on his head and wrapped it lightly, debating whether or not to give him some morphine. 

“You hurtin’?” She asked as she grabbed his hands to get him to stand up. 

Tyler shook his head once, and shuffled out of the tent. Evan and Jonathan were both waiting for him, concerned yet expectant of something like this to happen. 

“How is he?” Evan asked as he gathered Tyler into his arms.

“He’ll be okay in a week or so, but he should take it easy. No gallivanting around for now, you hear me?” 

“We’ll keep him contained,” Jonathan promised. With that, he led his two lovers back to the main house for the night. 

Simone watched them go, feeling some emotion that wasn’t particularly positive bubble up with her. It was something along the lines of a deep-seeded worry mixed with resignation.

When she had first met Tyler Wine, first saw him as an outlaw, it hadn’t taken her long to see that he didn’t like being played a fool. It was obvious in the way he took certain ribbings from his friends, from the way he did his best to educate himself so city-people wouldn’t think less of him.

She wondered if Bronte had come to the same conclusion of him yet. It didn’t matter; if he didn’t know it now, then he would soon enough. Tyler wouldn’t let this sort of thing roll over without a fuss. All Simone could do was hope that whatever revenge he enacted wouldn’t cost any of them their lives.


	33. the calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang tries to decide what to do next. Tyler already has it all planned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost finished with my classes, y'all. I'm excited to actually have more time to write. The action picks up in the next few chapters and I'm excited about it. 
> 
> I hope y'all are staying safe, shit's getting kinda scary again with the pandemic. Please wear your masks if you have to leave your home.
> 
> This chapter is a filler and kind of repetitive but I hope y'all enjoy!

Over the years, Evan liked to think that the gang had an overarching goal: piss off enough people and rob enough establishments to justify leaving for the west coast.

They’d been getting pretty close to meeting that goal, only to be met with a series of setbacks.

Blackwater being the biggest setback they’ve faced so far. Even after damn near a full year later, it still pained Evan to think that half of their gang’s money was trapped in that Pinkerton-infested town.

Then Valentine happened, and then Rhodes, and now Saint Denis. Setback after setback after setback.

Evan had hoped that with this current setback having left Tyler with a head injury and their gang very much unwelcome in Saint Denis, Tyler would hold off on any sort of bigger plans for the moment. Evan hoped that Tyler might - for once - just focus on getting better. 

Of course, Evan also knew Tyler better than that. 

Which is why he wasn’t surprised when, no less than three days later, he walked into the main house and found Tyler, Craig, and Brian all sitting around the living room, various papers spread before them and faces red from bickering.

“Evan!” Brian jumped up from the couch and latched onto his arm, dragging him into the fray before Evan could get a word in edgewise. “Settle somethin’ for us, would ya?” 

“Oh sure, bring  _ him _ into this,” Craig flipped his hand around from where he was settled on the floor. “Because he’s so fucking impartial.” 

“Shut up, cunt!” Brian snapped before whirling on Evan. “Bronte, right? Angelo Bronte?” 

Evan blinked. “What about him?” 

“Tyler wants to get revenge-” 

“This isn’t about revenge!” Tyler stood up from the chair by the fireplace, shooting a burning glare towards the Irishman. “He’s a danger and a menace a-and, and an obstacle in our way.” 

Evan’s eyes jumped to his lover. He’d never known the man to stutter. “You feeling alright?” He asked, softer and more genuine than he’d meant to in front of the other two pricks in the room. 

Tyler’s angered gaze landed to him. “I’m fine, darling. Thanks.” His words were kind while his tone was anything but. 

“Do you think we should go after Bronte?” Brian asked, turning the conversation back around.

“No,” Evan’s reply was immediate. 

Craig scoffed. “Call the newsboys, Evan doesn’t wanna do the right thing.” 

Brian looked smug. 

Tyler shook his head. “Evan, look at it this way. We’re going to rob a bank in a city that Bronte controls. Shit, might as well be  _ his _ fucking bank. He wouldn’t let that slide if we robbed him while he’s still breathing.” 

Evan hated that it kind of made sense. “So we take him out, rob the bank, and then what?” 

“Get the hell out of here,” Tyler said, anger fading into a painfully earnest look. “Go west, like you want.” 

“Like we all want,” Brian reminded him. 

Evan was beyond skeptical. “Why now? You sure you don’t wanna keep heading east until we ‘lose the heat’?” 

“If this goes right, we’ll have enough money to make it!”

“Not enough to barely get there and then starve before we can make a living,” Craig added bitterly. “You know, like after Valentine.” 

Brian jerked, like he wanted to throw something at the other outlaw. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. 

Evan’s eyes wandered the length of bandages still wrapped around Tyler’s head. “Maybe we should wait until you’re better-” 

“I  _ am _ better,” Tyler snapped, sitting back down with a huff. “Besides, if we keep waiting, someone’s gonna find out we’re here.” 

“Oh right,” Brian chuckled harshly. “How could I forget about our long list of enemies who want nothing more than to see us all killed and dumped into an unmarked hole in the ground. The list you wanna add Angelo Bronte to. That list.” 

“He can’t be on the list if he’s dead,” Craig said plainly. 

Evan took a step back, both mentally and literally. He looked to Brian, then Craig, then Tyler. Each of them looked beyond determined and steadfast in their own opinion. 

“I think,” he began slowly, searching for the best way to phrase his thoughts. “I think we should open this up to the whole camp.” 

“We never have before,” Craig immediately said. 

“You’re right, we haven’t. And we should. Whatever we do next affects them too, they should have a say.” 

Brian began nodding feverishly. “Yeah, let’s do it. Tonight, at dinner, we ask for everyone’s input.” 

Tyler said nothing, just leaned over and held his head in his hands.

Craig tongued his cheek, seemingly more irritated. “You’re just doing this so we’ll be outnumbered.” 

Evan turned to him. “Fucking forgive me for giving a shit about more than just myself. I want to hear what the others have to say, or did you forget that you aren’t the only one here? We have a whole gang of people whose lives depend on shit like this, they deserve to at least fucking know what they’re being involved in.” 

“Alright, alright, shit,” Craig waved him off as he stood back up. “Have your little council, whatever. I don’t care.” He walked past Evan, purposeful bumping into him like an angry child. He let the door slam behind him as he exited the house. 

Evan, now sporting the beginning of a headache, just went upstairs into the bedroom, leaving Brian and Tyler alone.

That night, everyone gathered around the campfire for dinner.

Tyler stood up and said his piece. Then Brian went and countered him. 

It didn’t take long for the shouting to start up. 

Kelly had already made up her mind about the matter, so she stayed on the sidelines. She leaned against a tree and ate her stew, watching while Nogla and Scotty yelled up a storm. 

It almost devolved into a physical fight until they were dragged away from each other. 

She chuckled to herself, and continued to eat.

She had an inkling of what the gang would go for - Tyler could preach about how righteous they all were, but she knew better. Deep down inside, she and the rest of them were still criminals. Criminals like them, well, they liked revenge. 

What really caught her attention was Brian, fleeing the circle and lighting up a cigarette. The biggest defender of Bronte, leaving the discussion entirely. 

She didn’t think twice about going after him, weaving through the trees unseen. 

Brian had stopped on the crumpled dock that led into the swamps. He sat down on the edge, legs tucked up so as to not dangle over the murky water. He inhaled from his cigarette like his life depended on it. 

“You good?” Kelly asked, thumping her boot against the wooden dock harder than necessary to alert him to her presence. 

He still startled, fumbling and almost dropping his cigarette into the muck. “Fuckin’ hell, Kelly, a little warning next time!”

“Sorry,” She said, unapologetically. She sat down next to him, crossing her legs and setting her bowl of stew in her lap. “What’cha doing?” 

“The fuck does it look like?” He waved the cigarette around haphazardly in her direction. 

She swatted his hand away. “It looks like you’re trying to get ashes in my food!” She angled her bowl away from him, and took another bite. “It also looks like you’re running away,” She told him through a mouthful of potato. 

Brian opened his mouth, closed it, took a breath, and nodded. “We all know what’s goin’ to happen. When Tyler gets an idea in his head, the rest of us might as well be chickens for all the fight we put up.” 

“Chickens put a hell of a fight, I dunno what you mean there.” Kelly held her hand out, gesturing for the cigarette. 

Brian took another pull of it, then begrudgingly handed it over. “But you do know what I mean with them,” He gestured wildly back to the gathering of outlaws still shouting loud enough to awaken the swamps around them. 

“I do,” Kelly admitted. “Can I ask you why you don’t wanna kill the bastard? He paid for those hicks to kidnap Lauren, remember?”

“As if I could forget?” Brian asked, anger lacing the regret in those words. “He’s… why do you wanna kill him?” 

“Cause he’s a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to live. If it were up to me, I’d say we rob him, burn the city down, and  _ then _ kill him so he can see everything he’s built torn to shreds, but killing him will just have to suffice.” 

Brian blinked at her, then took his cigarette back. “I keep forgettin’ you’ve got a vindictive streak a mile long.” 

“I only use for the bastards who deserve it.” She took another bite of stew, chewing thoughtfully. “But really, though. Why? You goin’ soft on us?” 

“Now you sound like Craig.” 

Kelly wrinkled her nose. 

“Maybe I just wanna get the fuck out of here as soon as possible,” Brian said. “The east has been nothing for us.” 

“That really it?” Kelly saw the way the Irishman’s gaze lingered on the Barrus’ as they sat separately from the belligerent outlaws. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while, I wanna do somethin’ else with my life.” Brian said, sounding very, very far away from Kelly and the swamps. 

“Does that something have to do with that real cute family over there?” Kelly nudged his shoulder with hers, and stole the cigarette from him.

Brian was so far gone in his head that he didn’t even notice. “Maybe,” he admitted. 

Kelly grinned, partially heartful and partially teasing. “You wanna settle, don’t you? You wanna settle with them.” 

He could only shrug. He said nothing for a moment, then murmured, “Maybe I do.”

Evan knew the second that Brian walked away from the campfire, that it was a lost cause - Tyler was already dead set on planning Bronte’s downfall. 

He plopped down onto a log, fit himself right against Jonathan, and rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. He let the arguing wash over him, content to just watch the fire dance around the burning logs. 

Jonathan’s hand found its way to his hair, and began playing with it. 

“You’ve been quiet,” Evan noticed, letting his hand rest on Jon’s thigh. “What’cha thinkin’?” 

The hand in his hair paused its ministrations. “You’re not gonna like it.” It almost sounded like an apology.

Evan nodded and sighed. “You wanna kill Bronte too.”

“He’s a piece of human filth, and he played his part in what went down in Rhodes.” 

“So revenge?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t want it either.” 

“I don’t!” Evan shot up, ripping himself away from Jonathan’s side as if he’d been scalded. 

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re really telling me the world ain’t better off without Bronte in it?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying-” 

“If you care about his pathetic life so fuckin’ much why don’t you go warn him that we’re coming.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Jonathan.” Evan stood, ready to walk away from the situation entirely. Then he paused, and took a look around. 

He saw Brian sitting alone at the dock; Kelly had rejoined them, standing on the sidelines and watching. It felt like he and Brian were the only ones that were seeing straight around, who saw that going after Bronte wasn’t the right move. 

Evan couldn’t leave too. He had to stay and fight. Had to give one last stand.

So he did. 

He shouted until his throat hurt, until he was exhausted, until everyone else had gone to bed and it was just him, Jonathan, and Tyler. 

It was only when Jonathan dumped a basin of water onto the fire, dousing what little embers were still burning, did he pause. 

He paused long enough for Jon to ask, “You coming to bed?” 

Evan looked from him to Tyler. Saw the determination, the stubbornness, the certainty in both their gazes. Saw his continued arguing was a lost cause, and accepted defeat. “Sure,” he finally said, voice cracking from the pain in his throat. 

The planning of the job - their last job, the greatest hit they’ll ever pull off, so Tyler claimed - began shortly after that clamorous night around the campfire. 

If nothing else, it was Lui’s time to shine. 

The man had taken the back burner since Colter, keeping low to the ground. Now that his expertise in planning was needed, he took to the light like a moth to a flame. It was as if he’d glued himself to Tyler’s side, picking his brain to shreds with idea after idea. 

Evan would worry for Tyler’s sanity if he wasn’t already sure that it was slowly falling apart. The outlaw lifestyle wasn’t exactly the most healthy to choose from, but it was truly starting to take its toll on their leader. 

It was all Evan could do to be helpful and supportive. Actually try and help instead of hindering the process as he really wanted to. Being a spoilsport wouldn't the fact that this was their new trajectory: by the winter, Bronte would be decomposing in the ground, and the Saint Denis bank would be gutted.

Assuming everything would go according to plan, the gang would find themselves on the west coast within two years. 

It was a large assumption, yet Evan held onto it with all he had. 

“Surprise, fuckin’ surprise, the bastard’s house is guarded seven ways to hell,” Jonathan grumbled as he set down his binoculars. His eyes were starting to hurt from staring into them, so he brought his hands up to viciously rub at them. 

“Guarded by idiots who’ll scatter the second the heat turns up,” Craig elbowed him out of the way and snatched the binoculars for himself. He fumbled with them for a bit, since his dominant arm was broken and therefore useless. 

The two of them had holed up on the roof of an apartment building a couple streets over to get a good look at the layout of Bronte’s house. 

No, not a house. A fucking mansion. 

“God, I hate this prick,” Craig muttered under his breath. 

“Then it’s a good thing he won’t be a problem for much longer,” Jonathan said. 

Craig gave him a sidelong glance, but stayed silent. “So the guards stay in the same position all day, and switch out at night?” he surmised. 

“Seems like it. We should still keep watch for another few days to make sure.” 

“Weren’t Brian and Kelly watching the front?”

“They should be.”

“Either Bronte doesn’t know how to properly guard his house-” 

“Most definitely.” 

“Or he thinks he’s so high-and-mighty that no one would dare.” 

Brian tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Or he knows that no one else is stupid enough to try.” 

Kelly waved him off. “Quit your grumbling, and help me look.” 

“Help you look at what? We know the guard rotation, there’s nothing else to learn.” 

“We have to be certain here. One little mistake, and-” 

“Everyone dies, yeah yeah.” 

Kelly swatted him upside the head, lightly enough to be felt but not harsh enough to hurt. “Suck it up, Bri. This is what we’re doing, and we’re going to do it good.” 

Brian just gave her a noncommittal hum.

She rolled eyes at him, and continued looking through the binoculars. “Think of it this way,” She said after a moment. “This is the last job you’ll ever have to work with Craig. That should put a bounce in your step.” 

“Maybe he’ll die during it,” Brian mused. “Wouldn’t that be better for everyone.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Kelly said in the flattest tone he’s ever heard.

A swing of the axe. The heavy impact that shook his bones. The sound of splitting wood. It was a repetitive motion, a monotonous chore, and something that Jonathan took to when he didn’t want to think. 

He was currently avoiding thinking about a lot of things. Most of them had to do with what was happening in the main house. 

Jonathan dug through his outer coat he’d dropped onto the ground for his pocket watch. It read 4:17 in the afternoon. 

Tyler had taken Brian, Craig, and Lui into the house and shut the doors to the rest of the gang. They’d been in there since the early morning. Since damn near the moment Jon and Evan had woken up.

Tyler was planning something big. 

Anticipation was growing in Jonathan, making his chest feel tighter and tighter as the day went by. 

It was the same thing the next day. 

Tyler dragged the committee of planners into the main house for hours on end. 

When they were done for the day, they would join the rest of the camp and proceed about their lives like nothing had happened. 

On the third day of this, Jonathan cornered Brian. 

“What the hell are you planning?” He asked firmly, stepping in the Irishman’s way to cut him off from the camp. 

Brian just stood his ground. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing, my ass. What is going on?”

“Tyler will tell you when he wants to tell you, it ain’t my place-” 

“The fuck it isn’t, this is my future you’re talking about! Everyone’s future, this is  _ everyone’s _ future you’re conspiring about without telling the rest of us a damn thing!” 

Brian shrugged. “I can’t tell ya, sorry.” 

Jonathan scoffed. “Sure you are.” 

It took another two days for the plans to be finalized. 

Five full days of hardly seeing Tyler, and then the man was standing before the campfire as if nothing had happened. 

As if this was a normal job they were planning, and everyone had a say in the plans. 

As if anyone with a differing opinion could speak up without getting immediately shot down.

Evan and Jonathan sat together as Tyler presented his plan to the rest of the camp. About halfway through, Evan took Jon’s hand and held on tightly. 

Almost too tightly. 

Jonathan could tell that Evan hated the plan. 

He didn’t know how he felt about it himself. 

Once Tyler was done speaking, Chrissy stood up. “So we kill Bronte, rob the Saint Denis bank, and finally head out west?” 

“Sounds so simple,” Jonathan remarked under his breath. 

This time, Lui stepped forward. “There’s a lot more to it than just that, but yeah. This is it, y’all. It’s finally the end.” 

“Hope you’re alright with that,” Brian said unapologetically. “We’re finally fuckin’ settling.” 

Evan could feel Tyler’s gaze on him, almost as if his lover sought his approval. As if Tyler sought his approval to kill Bronte if it meant finally getting his dream made in the west. Evan couldn’t take it; he left the campfire, left the gang, and went into the main house to sleep. 

Jonathan stayed where he was. He gave Tyler what he hoped was a comforting smile. 

“When are we doing this?” Kelly asked from her spot on the ground beside Chrissy. “When do we kill Bronte?” 

Tyler grinned a malicious grin that sent a shiver down Jon’s spine. “Tomorrow night.” 


	34. an alligator has a snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler deals with Angelo Bronte in an unsavory manner, but it was necessary. It was necessary, wasn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's finished their first semester of college? This idiot!!!   
I did it, y'all. It's over. For a bit, anyways. Hopefully my upload schedule will be a bit more consistent, at least until the next semester starts. But we will deal with that when it comes. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

The camp was quiet the next day.

Hardly a word was uttered in the procession. Everyone’s minds were far far away, wondering and wandering and hoping that they were closing in on the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Even baby Charlotte seemed to have picked up on the somber mood. She didn’t have a fit, she was hardly even fussy. 

As dusk began to fall, Brian picked her up and just cradled her to his chest. He swayed to music only he could hear, and held the baby like he would his own. She helped to quiet the thoughts racing through his mind. 

Lauren found them after it had been a solid half-hour and he hadn’t moved. She came up and pressed herself against his side, slinging one arm around her child and the other along Brian’s back. 

“You know this isn’t goodbye. You’re coming back to her, whether you like it or not.” Lauren’s voice was soft so as to not disturb the coming night. 

Brian managed the barest of smiles. “I’ll always come back to her, don’t you worry about that.” He tore his gaze away from the sleeping babe, and made the mistake of looking into Lauren’s eyes. 

Lauren wore her emotions in her eyes, a storm of green swirling in her gaze. If you didn’t know her, it all coalesced into a single shade, an unreadable color. 

As Brian got to know her, he learned to see every single shade of green in her eyes. He learned to read her, just as she learned to read him. 

He saw love when he looked into her eyes. He only hoped she could see the same from him. 

“I’ll come back,” He promised, just in case she couldn’t.

“I should hope so,” Brock said as he appeared on Brian’s other side. 

Kelly spent the sunset readying the horses. They’d gotten antsy from being hitched all day, too used to the hustle and bustle of constantly being on the move. Evan’s horse in particular was being a moody little thing, and Kelly had to go search for more peppermints to give to the mare.

“I think Jonathan took the rest of them,” Chrissy told her when she asked. “He’s up in his room.” 

Kelly sighed but she wasn’t surprised. There were two things Jon seemed to hoard; gun oil and peppermints. 

Sure enough, when she got to the bedroom and knocked on the door, she opened it to find Jonathan sitting on the bed, oiling his guns and surrounded by peppermint wrappers. 

“Are there any left?” Kelly asked, flicking one of the wrappers at him. 

Jon swatted it away but wouldn’t look at her. “No, uh, Nogla ate ‘em all.” 

Kelly cleared her throat as she held out her hand. 

He sucked his teeth and fished in his pocket. He pulled out another two mints and handed them over with a sour face. 

“Why, thank you.” Kelly left, eager to return to the horses. 

As she exited the main house, she caught sight of the Barrus’. Brock and Lauren were hugging Brian, all of them looking as if they were in their own little world. 

Kelly passed by them quickly, unwilling to spoil their moment with her presence. 

“Ev, can I talk to you?”

Evan continued to admire the setting sun. It was very pretty, seeing the bursting of colors over the grossness of the swamps. It almost made all the muck look nice. He patted the log he was sitting on as a response. 

He felt more than saw Tyler sit down next to him. 

“Ev, I just… I’ve been thinking, and i- I want to ask you something.” Tyler waited until Evan had leveled his questioning gaze onto him. “Are you with me on this?” 

“Of course I am,” Evan answered immediately, mostly on reflex. Then he thought about the question a little more. “Wait, what? When I have ever not been on your side?” 

Tyler fixed him with a weird look. “It feels like lately you been on anyone’s side ‘cept mine. I need you  _ with  _ me, not  _ against _ me.” 

Evan stood up at that. Frustration began bubbling in his veins, threatening to turn into full-blown anger. “For fuck’s sake, Tyler, I’ve been with you for the last fifteen goddamn years! Don’t you dare doubt me now, not like this.” 

“You haven’t exactly been giving me a reason to be so damn sure about your loyalty lies nowadays, if I’m being perfectly honest.” 

“That’s fucking rich, Tyler Wine.” 

“You’ve been fighting me since Blackwater-” 

“Because you fucked up, since we’re being so damn honest! But have I stopped supporting you? Have I stopped being on your side, have I changed anything about my goddamn loyalty? No. I’ve been right behind you, and the fact you’re accusing me of this shit right now really fuckin’ hurts.” 

Tyler said nothing. His face was stoic as ever, eyes betraying nothing. 

Evan waited for him to say something. 

He didn’t. He just leaned over to bury his face into his hands. 

Evan looked away. He didn’t want something like this to happen, he never did. It hurt to fight, it hurt to have to admit these things. It hurt to be doubted by the man he loved. 

“I may not agree with the shit you do,” Evan said sternly, resisting the urge to touch his lover, to press a hand to his shoulder. “But I will always stand by you. I thought you knew that.” He walked away after that, avoiding everyone else in the camp. His anger was gone as quick as it had appeared, leaving him tired. 

Feeling empty and exhausted even before they left camp wasn’t good. He could feel his thoughts wandering, taking turns onto roads he didn’t want to go down. He needed to focus on tonight. 

Evan found Kelly saddling up the horses and decided to help. They had a big night ahead of them.

Tyler had managed to sucker some poor man into ferrying them through the swamps. Bronte’s house was easily accessible that way, an easy way to catch him off guard. The man, Evan was pretty sure his name was Thomas, didn’t say a word as he picked up the outlaws in his shitty little boat. 

In fact, no one said a damn word. Jonathan looked over his guns, Brian and Kelly kept their eyes on the swamps, Tyler was bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands woven together. Evan couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Evan wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

All too soon, they had arrived. 

“Pick us up over there,” Tyler gestured to the docks that practically led into Bronte’s back yard.

“Yes, sir.” 

Tyler was the first to exit the boat, followed closely by the others. They had arrived on the east side of Bronte’s manor, at the back of his grounds that were surrounded with brick walls. Tyler peered into the scene, gathering the lay of everything. As expected, guards were roaming the premises, some making rotations and some standing still. 

There were enough guards to make it interesting, but not too many that they couldn’t handle it.

“Brian, Kelly, you’re with me. Evan and Jon, you two take the left. Spread out,” Tyler commanded, voice quiet yet stronger than steel in the face of what was ahead of them.

The outlaws did as they were told, and took place along the back wall that separated the yard from the docks, spacing out as well as they could.

Evan ended up on the far end, which he wasn’t upset about. He could provide cover fire, but his view of the rest of the yard was cut off by a shed. He’d be out of the way for the majority of the fight, which was leagues better than being on the forefront. 

Tyler rolled his shoulders and sent a crooked grin towards Brian. “On your mark,” He whispered. 

Brian waited for everyone to take aim at a guard of their choosing. He went for the one on the far end of the courtyard, standing right by the doors to the mansion. He took a deep breath and fired. 

Bronte had been expecting an attack. That much was obvious when another ten guards poured out from the doors of the mansion, both on the lower level and the upper deck, nearly as soon as gunshots burst through the night’s quiet. 

What Bronte hadn’t accounted for was the hired men to be idiots.

Jonathan pushed forward until he was crouched behind the obnoxious fountain that sat nicely in the middle of the courtyard. He stayed where he was covered by the concrete, and took shots at the bastards on the upper deck. They tried to take cover behind the twin pillars holding up the roof, but they kept making the same mistake of peeking too far over the edge. 

Every guard was dead within minutes.

Jonathan wasted no time in rushing to the door. Kelly planted herself on the right side of it, shotgun held firm in her hands. Tyler stood on the left side of the doors, thrumming with anticipation. 

Evan and Brian came up behind him, and it was time to move on. 

Jon shot out the locks, kicked the doors open. Kelly and Tyler shot the two guards that had attempted to ambush them, and the foyer was now cleared. 

“Search every goddamn room,” Tyler demanded. He raised his head high, and shouted, “Bronte, we’re coming for you, you sonuvabitch!”

With Evan at his heels, Jonathan went for the stairwell. There was a man on the first landing, waiting for them. 

Evan had traded his rifle for his shotgun and used it to shoot the man through his chest. The man toppled through the stained glass window and was dead before he even hit the ground. 

There was another waiting for them at the top of the stairs; Jon took care of him quickly. These weren’t guards anymore, they were Bronte’s personal henchmen.

Jonathan took great satisfaction in killing them. He’d be damned if he left a single prick alive in this joint. “I’ll take this side,” He told Evan, jerking his head to the right side of the house. “You find Bronte, you shout.”

There were more gunshots from downstairs, but no sighting of the Italian bastard. 

Evan nodded, and the two of them parted ways.

Kelly finished off another two henchmen in the living room before deciding that the first floor was boring. She sidestepped Brian popping a man in the head several times, and bounded up the stairs.

She was getting antsy. The longer it took to find Bronte, the more time the police would have to swarm the house. They already caused enough noise, they needed to get the fuck out of here and  _ soon _ . 

“On your left,” She muttered at Evan as he passed him in the hallway.

“Wait-” 

Kelly ignored him and kicked open the last closed door in the hallway. As expected, a henchman was waiting for her. She put a bullet in his chest, then saw a flurry of movement out the corner of her eye. There was a room on the far wall, but the door was swinging idly on its hinges. 

“Show your pathetic face, Bronte,” She demanded, gun raised and heart pounding.

She took a rather loud step forward, and the door was whipped open. 

Bronte stood in the doorway with a weird looking pistol in his hand. He clicked the trigger desperately, but it jammed. His eyes widened comically; he threw the gun in a jerking motion, which Kelly just blocked with her wrist. The impact would’ve hurt if adrenaline wasn’t numbing her body to the pain. 

She just raised her gun and aimed it at Bronte’s chest. 

“Wait, wait, hold on!” He pleaded, backing up as much as he could in the cramped bathroom he’d cornered himself in. “N-name your price! Everyone has a price!” 

Kelly rolled her eyes. With a smile, she brought up the butt of her rifle and slammed it into Bronte’s temple. 

The Italian crumpled into the bathtub, thoroughly unconscious yet still breathing. As much as she wanted to kill him right there and then, she knew Tyler wanted him alive. 

“Evan, come here!” She called out as she examined her wrist. It was turning red, and would probably bruise later. She was lucky he was as weak in the arm as he was in the spine.

He came running so fast that he slipped on the hardwood floor; if he hadn’t managed to catch himself on the doorway, his face would’ve hit the floor and knocked out several teeth. As it was, he looked both concerned and embarrassed, all at once. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes flicking all about, trying to locate the source of danger. 

“Bring him to Tyler.” Kelly stepped out of the way so he could see Bronte in all his unconscious glory, legs hanging over the tub and mouth hanging open.

Brian had been looking out the window when he saw something that made his stomach drop to the floor. 

“The cops are on their way!” He shouted, ripping the curtains shut and backing away from the front of the house. “Tyler, the cops!” 

“I fucking heard you!”

“We’ve got him!” Kelly practically leaped down the stairs, holding hers and Evan’s gun as the other outlaw had Bronte slung over his shoulder. Jonathan came down behind them, shoving something into the pocket of his jacket. 

“Shit, let’s go!” Tyler shouldered open the back door, waiting for everyone to leave first before he shut it. 

The telltale whistles of the policemen rang through the air, shrill and taunting as they rounded on the manor. 

“Fuckin get to the boat!” Tyler yelled, shoving everyone ahead of him. They couldn’t get caught in another shootout, not right now.

The outlaws broke into a sprint, all of them centered around Evan as he carried Bronte through the courtyard. 

Thomas was standing diligently on his boat, waiting at the docks for them to get there. 

Evan threw Bronte down onto the front of the boat before clambering on after him. Kelly followed, then Brian and Jon. 

The cops spotted them, and began shouting. Tyler didn’t give them a second glance, just got in the boat and pushed it away from the docks. “Thomas, for the love of God, get us out of here!” He commanded the ferryman, watching as the policemen rounded the front of the house and came upon the courtyard. 

“Help me, sir.” Thomas handed Brian an oar, sensing the urgency crowding over the outlaws like a heavy fog. 

Kelly went to start shooting at the cops, but Tyler held his hand over her gun. She glared at him. He ignored her. 

They had gotten far enough into the mire of the swamps to disappear behind gnarled trees and low hanging vines. Even the moon’s light couldn’t help the cops see them. 

With Brian providing manpower, Thomas took command of the boat; he knew the swamps by heart, and didn’t even need a lantern to know where to go. 

Tyler finally turned his attention to Bronte. He slapped the man’s cheek a couple times, until consciousness brought him back to the land of the living. 

“Hey, big man,” Tyler greeted with a smile. He crouched over Bronte, watching him intently. “We gonna ransom you, or what?” 

Bronte looked to the outlaw, then to the others behind him. He shook his head and huffed. “You’re pathetic,” His voice was rough, his resolve still somewhat strong in the face of death. 

Tyler’s smile stiffened. “Am I? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, you’re the one in dire straits, my friend. All your men, all your money, and it wasn’t no match for a bunch of bumpkins.” He gestured to the outlaws behind him, his family behind him.

“You are nothing,” Bronte seethed, practically  _ hissed _ . “You have nothing, you stand for nothing, you are nothing! Me, I run a city. When the law catch to you, you will die like nothing!” He tried to push himself up against the boat, only to be stopped by Tyler’s boot on his left wrist.

“I’m not nothing,” Tyler corrected him. “I’ve built something you can only dream to have: I’ve built a family.” 

“Family doesn’t mean shit,” Bronte looked over Tyler’s shoulder, to the outlaws who were merely observing. “A thousand dollars to the man that kills him and sets me free!”

Kelly laughed out loud at that. Brian tongued his cheek to hide his own smile. Evan and Jon shared a look, then leveled their glares at Bronte. 

Tyler smirked. “The hell are you gonna do now?” 

“They’re even bigger fools than you!” 

“Oh, no doubt.” 

Bronte scrambled as far from them as he could get. There was fear in his eyes, unadulterated fear. The fear of a man who knew he was out of options. “The law will catch up to you-” 

“I’m sure they will!” Tyler laughed, an awful, unhinged sound. “The law, the law, the law catches up to everybody!” He stood up, towering over the quivering snake of a man. He latched his hands into the back of Bronte’s nightshirt, and leaned him over the edge of the boat. “Call them all you want, you spineless bastard! They can’t help you now! Your  _ money  _ can’t help you now!” Tyler plunged Bronte’s head underwater, holding him by his neck as the Italian fought and fought against him. 

Evan climbed over Bronte to balance out the boat so they wouldn’t tip; every muffled shout from Bronte, every choking gurgle sent a chill down his spine. He kept his eyes on his boots.

Bronte stopped thrashing, but Tyler didn’t let up. “Ain’t no match for a bunch of bumpkins!” He gave one last heave, letting gravity topple the body into the swamp. 

Where an alligator was waiting, drawn by all the noise. It snatched up the body and disappeared into the muck. There was no doubt about Bronte’s survival. 

Evan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his lungs began to burn. He exhaled with a mighty “Holy fuck.” 

Tyler’s gaze snapped to him; he became even more irate when he saw the barely-concealed horror on his lover’s face. 

“We’re here,” Thomas broke the quiet as his boat bumped against the docks of Shady Belle. 

Tyler was the first one out of the boat. “This business wasn’t nice, I know that,” He said, projecting his voice loud enough for those at camp to hear him. “But it was either him or us. I figure it might as well have been him.” He stormed off to the house, ignoring everyone else as he went. 

Kelly and Brian left the boat after him. Brian rushed into Brock and Lauren’s arms, eagerly greeting them and baby Charlotte. 

Jonathan stood up, but faltered when Evan remained seated. “Come on, Ev,” He nudged his lover gently, earning no reaction for his efforts. With a muted sigh, Jonathan grabbed Evan’s hand and tugged hard. 

Evan almost pitched forward; Jon used that momentum to bring him into a stand, and jostled him from the boat onto the dock. 

“Thomas, wait,” Jon settled Evan on the docks, then dug through his pocket. He found the golden pocket watch he’d swiped from Bronte’s house, and offered it to the ferryman. “Extra payment, I’m sure you didn’t mean to sign up for all that.” 

The ferryman took the watch with a grimace, but nodded all the same. “Good luck, gentlemen. Reckon y’all need it.” He pushed off into the night, boat making slow waves in the water. He disappeared in the swamps, back to his uncomplicated life. Back to his lawful life. 

Jon turned to Evan, who’d taken a seat on the rotting wood of the dock. Unwilling to go face Tyler and his mania on his own, Jon sat down next to him. 

“I knew we were gonna kill him, but  _ shit _ ,” Evan whispered as if he didn’t want Jonathan to hear him.

“Yeah, that was... yeah.” Even Jon didn’t have many words for what they had witnessed.

He didn’t think there  _ were _ any words to describe what had just happened. 

“Him or us,” Evan said bitterly.

Neither of them slept well that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realistically, I don't think an alligator would come and eat the body, but it happened in the game so it's happening in my story. Creative license and all that.


	35. say your goodbyes, my friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the biggest bank robbery any of them have ever done. If only it went the way it was supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! Warnings!!
> 
> There is some character death and some slight gore in this chapter! Please be careful if these things trigger you! Nothing is too explicit, but it's still there. 
> 
> Buckle up, kiddos. Shit gets real.

Where the camp was quiet in the procession leading to the night of Angelo Bronte’s death, the next morning was a chaotic flutter of movement and shouting and preparation.

No one in the camp had ever robbed a bank like this before - a city bank was nothing to scoff at. Everybody was to be involved; no idle hands were allowed, not today.

The gang had been split into four groups. Two groups would handle diversions, the third group would actually rob the bank, and the last group would stay behind to pack up the camp to move. 

It was already too dangerous to stay in Shady Belle, much less after killing Bronte and robbing the bank. A new destination had already been chosen, a small bit of nowhere that Tyler remembered from his travels. Somewhere they would be safe. 

At the first lights of dawn, Brian awoke to a cocoon of warmth; he’d taken to sharing a bed with the Barrus’, and last night they had held him close when he returned from Bronte’s manor. It was difficult to separate himself from them.

Brian had never felt so loved as he did when he was with Brock and Lauren. He never felt so calm, so peaceful. He never felt better than he did when he was smushed in between them on a bed that was too small for three people, with their daughter - for Charlotte was as much as Brian’s at this point as she was Lauren’s and Brock’s - sleeping in her crib by the window.

It pained him to have to leave the comfort of their arms wrapped around him like leeches, but Brian managed. Walking as quietly as he could, he dressed in his nicest city clothes, pressed a kiss to the foreheads of the Barrus family, and left.

Well, he tried to leave. He ended up lingering in the doorway, watching. Brock had already closed the space that Brian left, wrapping himself around his wife and settling back into a deep sleep. They wouldn’t be awake for another hour or so. Brian had no trouble with the thought of spending that hour just watching them sleep so goddamn peacefully.

Footsteps coming up the stairs drew him from his reverie. 

Knowing the tranquil moment would be ruined if the person made it all the way to the room - the floorboards were so creaky and awful - Brian went to go meet them halfway.

Lanai had paused when she saw Brian coming down the stairs, offering him a tired smile. “I was on my way to come get you,” She said quietly in lieu of a greeting. She turned to walk down the stairs, handing him an apple as they left the main house. She was dressed in proper clothing too, a dress and overcoat complete with a hat large enough to hide her face. 

“You and Kelly good to go?” Brian took a rather large bite of the apple, much to Lanai’s disgust as he chewed loudly.

“Yeah. I don’t think she slept last night, to be frank. When I woke up, she was already dressed and getting the carriage ready.”

“Evan packed it up?” 

Lanai nodded, gesturing to it as it sat on the edge of camp. Their horses were hooked up to the wagon, and Kelly sat on the bench, waiting for them. “Enough dynamite to blow up the whole damn city. Between ours and the other carriage, I can’t fathom where he got it all from.”

“Evan has his ways,” Kelly answered rather loudly. “Now hurry up.”

“I’m driving,” Brian told her, climbing up onto the bench and pushing her over to make room. 

It was truly a testament to how tired Kelly was that she didn’t even argue; she just handed the reins over, then climbed over the bench into the back of the wagon with Lanai. 

Lanai noticed as well. “You alright?” 

Kelly nodded, letting the sway of the wagon wash over her as Brian began driving. “Just ready for the long day ahead,” She answered rather solemnly.

“You’ve never sounded less excited over a bank robbery,” Brian said.

“Fuck you too.” 

“It was just an observation, my apologies.” He didn’t sound very repentant, but Kelly took it for what it was. 

“Sorry. I just don’t feel right about this.” 

Lanai tilted her head. “How do you mean?” 

“I don’t know.”

“We’ve done all we can to ensure this plan goes off without a hitch. Staggering the groups' leavings to avoid suspicion, two diversions to split the police, six men to case one bank-” 

“I know, I know, I was there when we planned it,” Kelly interrupted. “Something just feels  _ off _ about this. I wish I could explain it better.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Lanai left no room for discussion, despite her having no control over the outcome.

“Perfectly fine,” Kelly muttered under her breath.

An hour later, it was time for the second group to leave.

Chrissy was woken up earlier than she normally liked by Craig poking her thigh with his boot. She resisted the urge to jab an elbow into the side of his leg and picked herself up off her cot. 

“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Craig said stiffly. He left the main house, presumably to go micromanage the third member of their group, Anthony. 

Chrissy stretched to get a few cracks out of her back and went about her morning. Dressing up in city clothes, making sure she had an extra gun strapped to her thigh, putting on her usual boots in case she had to run.

Anticipation made her stomach flutter about. She wasn’t even going to be doing the fun shit, but she still felt all kinds of excited for today.

She headed for their carriage. Craig was counting how much dynamite they had, while Anthony was munching on some dried venison for breakfast. 

Chrissy hopped up onto the wagon and accepted Anthony’s offer of food. “How we lookin’?” She asked around a bite of meat. 

“We have enough,” Craig said, pausing his counting to scratch at where his wrist met his cast.

Craig wasn’t pleased about being put in one of the groups for a diversion; he’d much rather be doing the robbing of the bank instead of blowing up something, but Simone made it very clear that if he  _ had _ to participate, he wouldn’t be on the forefront. He agreed to get her off his case, and now here he was.

“The others left on time,” Anthony pointed out the wheel grooves in the mud. “We should get going.” 

“Fine.” Craig plopped himself down on the bench and directed the horses with a click of his tongue and a snap of the reins. 

Chrissy raised her dried venison to the sky in a toast of sorts. “Here’s to the rest of our lives being made today,” She offered. 

Anthony tapped his own against hers, a small smile fighting to make an appearance. “Fuckin’ cheers to that.”

Craig remained silent, facing away from them and hat turned low over his face. 

By the time the second group had left, everyone else was mostly awake and moving about. The rest of the preparations were underway and a buzz was in the air. 

“How far along are we?” Tyler asked Simone for what felt like the thousandth time.

“We’re ready when you are,” She reported back. She had demanded that everyone who wasn’t busy start packing up the day before, and it paid off. She was exhausted, but she had done her job and done it well. 

“I aim for us to leave the second we get back. Should be around noon.” He walked away after that, off to go pester someone else. 

That someone else turned out to be Evan and Jon. They had been tasked with saddling the horses for the last group, of which they were a part.

The third group would be the ones who were to rob the bank. Evan made sure the saddles were on tightly while Jonathan packed each one to the brim with guns and ammunition and what dynamite they could spare. 

There would be no chances taken for this job.

“Do you have everything?” Tyler asked, following Evan as he started rechecking all his work. “Saddle, stirrups, reins, bags-” 

“Yep, got it all.” Evan gestured to six horses all around them, all saddled up and good to go.

Tyler turned to Jon. “Rifles, shotguns, revolvers, ammo, anyone needin’ for any of it?” 

“No,” Jonathan answered curtly. “We got plenty.”

“Where are the others? We’re meant to be leaving now.” 

“Getting dressed, I think.” 

“I’m here!” Scotty rushed out of his tent over to them, still adjusting the cufflinks on his sleeves as he jogged.

Tyler nodded to him. “Nogla and Ohm?” 

“They’re almost-” 

“We’re ready!” Nogla was dragging Ohm by his arm through the camp.

Ohm snatched his arm back and smoothed out his clothes. “I had to say goodbye to Tiny,” He said unapologetically.

“Yeah, took fuckin’ ages.” Nogla hopped up onto his horse, almost bouncing in his seat from building excitement. “We goin’ or what?” 

Tyler nodded. “Let’s go.” He mounted up and hardly waited for the others before he urged his horse out of Shady Belle at a gallop. “Let’s rob us a bank!” He shouted to the open sky. 

He was met with a chorus of cheers behind him.

_ You better be prepared, Saint Denis _ , he thought to himself. The pounding of hooves all around him, his family all around him, filled him with more pride than anything else ever could. Saint Denis wouldn’t know what hit her, not when Tyler and his family were through with her. 

The wait was agonizing.

Evan bounced on the balls of his feet, growing more and more uncertain as the minutes passed. They had all hitched their horses on the street opposite Lemoyne National Bank; guns were in hand, satchels ready to be filled with riches, trigger fingers itching for a fight. 

At nine o’clock sharp, the first diversion would happen. Brian, Kelly, and Lanai were responsible for that. They should have had ample time to get everything set up.

Evan hated the waiting more than anything. He knew why they had to wait, the plan had been meticulously scheduled out. At nine, the first diversion. Five minutes later, the second diversion courtesy of Craig, Chrissy, and Anthony. Then five more minutes, and Tyler and the rest would hit the bank, calmly and quickly. 

The plan would either go off without a hitch, or it would turn out worse than Blackwater. Evan shuddered at the thought; they couldn’t afford another Blackwater, not financially and certainly not mentally. This job, this stupid bank, had to be their saving grace.

Evan was drawn from his thoughts by a booming explosion sending a small shockwave under his feet.

He couldn’t help but grin - his dynamite had done the job. Or at least, half of it. 

The cops’ whistles sprang up as they were drawn to the source of the explosion, well on the west side of the city from where the bank was.

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Tyler muttered in Evan’s direction, watching as every cop around them left to go investigate.

“I try.”

The second explosion was a minute late; but finally, the boom of another building being obliterated rang out, stirring up a frenzy in Saint Denis.

“Here we go, boys,” Tyler stood up straight and started walking. “Stay calm, remember the plan.”

A few moments later had them surrounding the doors to the bank; Evan pressed against the left side, Jon on the right. Nogla with Tyler, while Scotty had gone around to secure the side exit of the building. No one would be getting out on their watch.

Tyler took a deep breath and kicked open the doors. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a goddamn robbery!” He announced to the patrons of the bank while his outlaws flooded inside. 

The main room was circular, with domed ceilings and a tall desk that formed almost a complete circle in the center of the room. There were a few doors leading off from the main room, and the bank vault itself was built into the wall, between the doors to the office and a window. 

Nogla and Jon were on crowd control; they began ushering the fifteen or so civilians into the back room, the bank manager’s office. 

Nogla shoved the door open and pulled the manager out first, letting the poor man fall into the arms of Tyler, who gripped him close and held a revolver to his head to keep him still.

Jonathan saw one of the civilians - a young woman in an awful yellow dress - glance between him and the lamp on the service counter. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Jon growled at her before shoving her into the office.

Nogla corralled the rest of them into the rather spacious office, then stood in the doorway with his rifle raised.

“Now then,” Tyler shoved the manager at the vault door without enough force that the weak man hit the metal and bounced off. “Open the vault for me and my friend.” 

Evan stood real close to the manager, almost breathing down his neck if it were for the bandanna around his face. “Open the goddamn door!” 

The manager trembled and may have even mumbled a prayer under his breath, but he got his shaking hands to cooperate long enough to unlock the vault. Tyler took the man back in his arm, holding him tightly and pressing his revolver to the man’s temple. 

Evan entered the vault and took a quick look - it was a small room, the walls lined with drawers inscribed with citizens’ names on them. The real treasure lay within the large safe that was embedded into the far wall, with a combination lock deadset in the center.

“Forget the drawers, just take care of the safe,” Tyler commanded, ushering the bank manager forward until they were in the doorway of the vault. “Tell him the combination,” He pressed his gun to the manager’s temple with a little more force, encouraging him to spill. “Come on, friend; speak, or die.”

The manager said nothing, lips almost turning white from how hard he pressed them together. 

Tyler rolled his eyes, and tightened his hold around the man’s neck. Enough to cut his air off, to make him think he would die right there and then. Then Tyler released the man entirely, letting him drop the ground. 

“The combination!” He shouted, crouching down to press the revolver right between the man’s eyes.

“N-nineteen, seventy-two, fifty-four!” The manager shouted, shutting his eyes tight and curling up on the floor.

“Get that?” 

Evan nodded, already turning the dial and hearing three, satisfying clicks. The safe opened before him. 

Papers, jewelry, bars of precious metals; Evan grabbed as much as he could, as much as he could fit into his satchel. 

“Here!” Nogla threw him another satchel, which Evan began to fill up as well. 

It was only when the safe was empty enough and the weight of the bags was staggering did Evan leave the vault in tow with Tyler. 

“We have a fucking problem!” Jonathan warned them, shielding himself up against a pillar near the front door. 

As Tyler and Evan neared the windows, Evan felt his heart stop. 

Men lined the street in front of the bank - they weren’t wearing those awful blue police uniforms, and they looked twice as pissed off as any cop ever could. The fucking Pinkertons had them, but that wasn’t even the worst part. 

The Pinkertons had managed to capture the rest of the outlaws; Brian, Kelly, Lanai, Chrissy, Anthony, and Craig were all paraded out front, like prize hogs at the harvest.

“Get out here now, Tyler Wine!” One of the Pinkertons yelled, shoving Anthony, Craig, and Brian out front. 

Evan crouched down under the windows facing the street, while Tyler stood against the wall. Nogla and Jon stood on the other side of the bank, and Ohm and Scotty had centered themselves behind the service desk. 

“It’s over, Tyler Wine!” The Pinkerton-in-charge yelled, forcing the criminal men to their knees in the middle of the street, while the ladies were forced to watch.

Jonathan knew something was wrong with this; the Pinkertons should never have been here, not in a million fucking years. It was only supposed to be the pathetic city cops they were dealing with, not goddamn mercenaries operating under the farce of the government. “Someone must’ve squealed,” He realized aloud. 

“We should’ve never gone after Bronte,” Evan lamented. He made sure his rifle was loaded and looked to his leader. 

Tyler ignored him, entirely focused on the scene before them. “Please let my family go,” He called out to the Pinkertons. “Or people are gonna get shot unnecessarily.” 

“Your family?” The main Pinkerton, a man wearing a bowler hat, scoffed. “It’s over, Wine! Face your fate like a real man. No more bargains, no more deals.” 

“This is America, you can  _ always _ make a deal!” Tyler looked around himself desperately searching for a way out. Maybe if he just talked long enough…

“We’ve given you enough chances!” 

One of the Pinkertons shoved Anthony into the street. 

Anthony stood up, uncertain of what to do. He turned to face the rest of the outlaws still sheltered in the bank. There was a gunshot, and a shimmer of red began to spread out from the center of his chest. He dropped to the ground, landing face down. 

“No!” Lanai broke free from the grips of another Pinkerton, slamming her knife into his throat, only to throw the knife and have it embed itself into the chest of another. 

Bowler Hat whipped around and shot her, once twice, too many times for her to survive. She crumpled down, and he reloaded his gun.

“Fuck you!” Kelly thrashed around, fighting to break free of the agent that had too tight of a grip around her shoulders. 

Evan watched in horror as two members of his family were killed before his eyes, and saw the main Pinkerton set his sights on Brian. 

Jonathan let loose, emptying his entire barrel into the man that had dared to kill them.

It was pure chaos after that. 

Evan felt as if he would never stop shooting. One downed Pinkerton had two more in its wake, a never-ending stream of bullets and carnage and utter hatred. 

“They killed Anthony! They killed Lanai!” Jonathan snarled as he fought to the front window, taking out as many bastards as he could.

“I knew we shouldn’t have done this!” Evan shouted back, hardly looking anywhere that wasn’t down the sights of his rifle. 

“Just keep shooting!” Tyler’s voice sounded distant among the gunfire. “I have an idea!” 

“What’re we doin’ here?” Nogla asked, popping a Pinkerton in the head as he rounded the corner on a horse. 

“Just keep shooting!”

There were too many of them. The Pinkertons just kept on coming. 

Evan felt a blazing fire erupt in his left arm, matching the aching in his right from the old, healed bullet wound. He felt more than saw the blood trickling down, and shot the idiot responsible. But more just surrounded the building, cutting off all exits. 

They wouldn’t last like this. 

Kelly felt her blood run cold the moment she saw Anthony get shot; then Lanai was next, and the sinking feeling only grew worse. 

There was no fighting their way out of this. She knew that Tyler would try, he would go down fighting and take them all with him. 

When the shootout hit, it was all Kelly could do, to duck into the building behind her. She wasn’t the focus anymore, she never was. She was a means to an end, and the end was in the bank across the street, standing his last ground. 

Chrissy fell back with her, holding Kelly in her arms. 

“We have to fucking get out of here,” Kelly murmured, still watching the gunfight. If she had her own guns, she would jump to the front lines, she would be the one shooting these idiots in the back to get to Tyler. 

Even Kelly knew when she was beat. 

“Fuckers!” Brian burst through the doors, face red and hands bloody. “We need to leave,  _ now _ !” He ran into Chrissy and Kelly, spurring them onward. 

“Where’s Craig?” Chrissy asked, spinning around to try and spot him. 

“Who cares? He’ll be fine.” Brian didn’t pause, grabbing onto Chrissy and Kelly’s hands, dragging them through the building, out the back. It was pure instinct driving him away from the fight that Tyler and the others were bound to lose. He had to get back to camp, back to his family.

“We can’t leave them,” Kelly said, though she wasn’t trying to stop. She kept speed with Brian as they raced through alleyways. 

“They’re dead men walking,” Brian told her. The words felt like acid in his throat, but once they were said, it felt too final. Like it was the absolute truth. 

Once they had walked into the bank, there was no walking out.

“Fall back to me!” Ohm shouted from behind the service counter. “There’s too many, fall back!” 

The others wasted no time; Evan and Jon vaulted over the edge, falling to the ground and hiding under the marble counter. Nogla and Scotty took their time to shoot a few more Pinkertons before rounding the corner and sticking close. 

Tyler was the last; he walked backward, never facing away from the men trying to put him down. 

Fed up with his bullshit, Evan gripped the back of Tyler’s coat and yanked  _ hard _ , toppling him over the edge of the counter. 

Tyler fell to the floor with a huff, but he was out of the way of the barrage of bullets trying to rip him to pieces. 

“Fucking now what?” Jonathan demanded, peeking over the counter to take a few shots.

Evan noticed the empty wall to the left of the bank manager’s office; the wall that led into an alleyway, not the open street. 

He felt his pockets and almost cried in relief. Evan jumped over the desk, darting over to the wall; there was a hanging photograph on the wall. He ripped it off and hung the last bundle of dynamite he had to his name.

Evan took cover behind the desk once more and shot the dynamite. 

The explosion was a bit overkill for the drywall, but the hole it blew was big enough for them to escape. 

“Good thinking,” Tyler praised him, back on his feet and killing Pinkertons. “Take Nogla and go on first, get the drop on them. We’ll follow in a second.” 

“Nogla, with me!” Evan shouted before running out the hole. 

Luckily, there was a fire escape on the building next to the bank, allowing for easy access to the roof. 

Nogla had the foresight to bring his sighted rifle; no one stood a chance against his aim. Not even the bastards that had rolled up with a fucking Gatling gun. 

“Where are the others?” Evan demanded, shooting the agents on the balcony of the building across from them while Nogla took care of those lingering in the streets.

“They’re coming,” Jonathan told him as he pulled himself up onto the roof. He clambered up the ladders, toppling over them in his haste to get to the edge. “We’re losing control of the bank, we gotta cover them!” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Evan repeated, a mantra of his own panic, manifested purely through words. His hands were steady and his aim was true, but the Pinkertons just  _ kept fucking coming. _

Scotty climbed up next. 

Evan peeked over the ladders, trying to see into the hole in the wall. He couldn’t see Ohm or Tyler, but he could faintly hear shouting. 

Then Tyler was shoved out of the bank with Ohm’s scream of “Fucking RUN!”

Tyler began climbing the ladders but didn’t look back. 

Evan pulled him up onto the roof, leaving Jonathan to rush to the edge. “Ohm, are you coming!” He demanded, dropping to his knees and shaking the ladder. “Ohm, you stupid bastard, get out here!” 

Tyler gripped Jon’s shoulders and ripped him away from the edge. “He told me to go without him,” He said, holding Jon tightly so he couldn’t turn back. “He said to get you out of here.” 

“No, no, no, we’re not leavi-” 

“ _ Yes we are _ !” Tyler snarled, dragging Jon away from the fire escape and onto the middle of the roof. “I am  _ not _ going to let us die here today! Evan and Jonathan, find a way across these roofs for us!” He pushed Jon away from him, into Evan’s arms. 

“I can’t leave him!” Jon screamed, clawing at the arms circling around him. 

Evan was steadfast against the thrashing chaos that was Jonathan; he just pulled him across the roof, towards their only chance to escape. “You have to, you have to - Jon, watch out!” He threw him to the ground as two Pinkertons found their way to the roof of the building next to them, guns raised. 

They were met with Scotty’s bullets ripping through their chests; the bodies tumbled over the edge, leaving Evan and Jon unharmed. 

“Come on,” Evan yanked Jon up and over the roof, jumping onto the next. 

The others followed behind them, until they were a few buildings down from the bank. 

This roof had sloped ridges that met in a dip in the middle for rain; the outlaws hunkered down there, hopefully out of sight from anyone looking from the streets. 

The Pinkertons that were left were still shouting and running to and from, but the gunshots had ceased. 

It was quiet.

“We gotta keep moving, or we’re gonna be dead in the next few minutes,” Nogla said unhelpfully.

Tyler glared at him, face red and bloodied. “Follow me, then. One at a time. Jon, follow me. Evan, take the back. Move quietly.” 

They traversed roof after roof in the most agonizing fashion possible; crouched down low, guns holstered, dropping onto progressively lower buildings as they traveled away from the epicenter of the city. 

They were moving west, Evan dimly noticed. The easiest way to camp was east. The direction didn’t matter so much as escaping the cesspit of a city at all did, so Evan kept his qualms to himself for now. 

“Hail Mary, full of Grace,” Tyler muttered as he found the jackpot - an abandoned building, what used to be an apartment complex of sorts, maybe. 

The windows were halfway boarded up, otherwise left open to the elements. 

“In here, quickly,” Tyler ushered the remaining outlaws into the window, keeping an eye out for any remaining Pinkertons or police. When the coast seemed clear and his family was safely inside, Tyler climbed through and shut the window. 

“They knew we were coming,” Jonathan growled the second the window was closed, pacing the small room they had found themselves in. 

The room was bereft of furniture, the wallpaper was peeling, and the floorboards creaked horrendously under their boots. Nogla left to scout the rest of the building while the outlaws took a minute to catch their breaths. 

“Just like the ferry job at Blackwater,” Evan chimed in bitterly. 

“Ain’t nothing like that,” Tyler corrected him fiercely.

“No, it’s worse. This time, there’s a goddamn rat among us!” 

Nogla came back, pointing to something deeper in the building. “There’s a better room with less windows this way, c’mon.”

They silently followed him down the hall and into a room that was a little less shitty than what they just in; this room only had two windows, one completely boarded up and the other with curtains that had been partially eaten by moths. There was some debris, but still no actual furniture. 

Evan collapsed onto the floor. His adrenaline was beginning to ebb, and in its place was pure hellfire rampaging through his blood. He held a hand to his shoulder, felt the hole in his shoulder, the blood congealing under his palm. 

Jonathan dropped next to him, silent and unfeeling, as he worked Evan’s hand away from the wound. 

Tyler looked away from them and stalked over to the window. 

“Now what?” Scotty asked, checking himself over for any wounds.

“I don’t know,” Tyler admitted, and that pained him dearly. “I  _ don’t _ know.” 

Nogla sat down on the floor, running his hands through his hair as he thought. “The city’s full of cops, we’ve lost people-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Jonathan snapped, finally looking away from Evan’s arm. “Shut the fuck up before I put you down too!” 

“Jon, pull yourself together!” Tyler demanded, voice harsher than any wound. “This is not the goddamn time.” 

Jonathan just looked at him with hatred storming in his eyes. “Fuck you,” He said as calm as ever. He turned his back to Tyler, focusing on doing what he could for Evan with their current lack of medical supplies. 

Tyler swallowed, throat burning for a multitude of reasons. “Anyone else hurt?” He managed to ask.

“You are,” Evan pointed up at his face with his aching arm. “Your face.” 

Tyler brought a hand to his cheek, and his fingertips came away bloody. Dimly, he remembered a bullet shattering the windows of the bank, the glass exploding right in his fucking face. He dabbed at his face with his sleeve, and felt the burn of a thousand little cuts. He was lucky he didn’t lose an eye. 

“We can’t go back to camp, we’d lead them to the rest and they’d slaughter us all,” Scotty said. 

Nogla nodded solemnly. “So what, we stay here for the rest of our lives?” 

“Don’t be stupid,” Tyler snapped. He started pacing, up and down the length of the room, carefully ignoring his two lovers in the corner. “They’ll be watching the roads for us, we’ll need to be careful.” 

He thought for a moment, brain running a million miles per hour.

Evan winced as Jonathan finished tying off a bandage made from scraps of his shirt. Jonathan then sat down next to him, pressed against him from shoulder to foot. He gripped Evan’s hand tightly in his, afraid to let go.

“Do you think any of the others escaped?” Scotty asked quietly. His mind drifted to Chrissy, and his chest burned with the hope that she made it out alive. 

“I’m sure they did,” Tyler answered.

“What the hell are we doin’?” Evan finally asked, desperate for answers, for a plan. 

Tyler stopped pacing long enough to look at him. “We stay here till dark, right? We stay here till it’s dark, and then we sneak out of the city. We can’t go back to Shady Belle, we just can’t. We need to hole up somewhere else for a bit, maybe a week or two, and then we-” 

“We should go back to Colter,” Nogla spoke up suddenly. “That abandoned mining town back in the mountains, they wouldn’t look for us there.” 

“What about the rest of the gang?” Scotty spoke up. 

“If they know what’s good for them, they’ll have left by now for Annesburg.” 

“You think they would?” 

“I told Simone, if we aren’t back by tonight, they need to leave anyways.” 

“We don’t have a way to get to Colter,” Evan realized. “Our fucking horses are gone.” 

Each outlaw let out a string of curses creative enough to make a nun pass out.

Tyler snapped his fingers and pointed out the window. “The train! We hide out in the cargo section of a train headed north!” 

“What, like stowaways?” 

“Exactly. Colter’s a good idea, but we might not be able to get there so easy. I say, we ride a train out of here, convene wherever it's going, hide out for a bit, then get to Annesburg.” 

“That’s assuming we can sneak onto a train in the first place, Tyler.” 

“If we go at night, we can. We sneak on quietly and go where it goes.” 

“What if it’s going far, far away from here?” 

“Then that’s where we’ll go.”

“So we’re fucking vagrants now?”

“We’ve always been vagrants of a sort,” Evan said before Jon and Tyler started fighting again.

By the time Brian, Kelly, and Chrissy arrived back at camp, the full weight of what the fuck had happened began to bear down on them. 

They hitched the two horses they had stolen, and walked towards where all the wagons were waiting. 

Everything had been packed up as Tyler wanted, and the remaining outlaws were milling about a small campfire. 

Brock spotted them first. “They’re back!” he shouted, alerting the rest to their presence.

Almost immediately, the three returning outlaws were rushed by what was left of their family. 

Lauren threw herself against Brian, gathering him in a nearly unbearable hug. Simone came up behind her, holding baby Charlotte and bringing her attention to Brian. 

“Where’s Tyler and them?” Lui asked as he approached.

All eyes fell to Brian, but he was unable to speak. He held Charlotte close to his chest and tried to ignore the crushing guilt threatening to suffocate him. 

“Pinkertons were there,” Kelly announced to the group. She stepped up, literally and figuratively, to the mantle that Tyler left. “There was a shootout.”

“Oh my god,” Simone brought her hands to her mouth. 

Smitty and John held onto each other. “Did anyone survive?” 

“We don’t know. We were separated, they… they killed Anthony and Lanai.” When Kelly closed her eyes, she could still see the bullets peppering the bodies of her family. 

“We ran after that,” Chrissy added. “There’s a chance they survived, but there were so many, it was an army.” 

Lauren grabbed onto Brian to stabilize herself. “So what do we do know?” 

“We should leave,” Brian said without looking at anyone other than the sweet baby girl cradled in his arms. “We should get the fuck out of here before we get killed too.” 

“We can’t just abandon them,” Brock countered. “They could still be alive and just waiting for the right moment.” 

“You’re right,” Kelly told him. Even though he wasn’t there, he didn’t see the carnage, the bodies in the streets, the horrible fear of watching your family face an onslaught and not being to help. “We should wait, see if any of them turn up.” 

“We can’t stay here,” Brian’s voice was almost at a shout. Charlotte gurgled at him in her shock, and he immediately felt bad about disturbing her. 

Chrissy held her hands up. “What if some of us leave now and some of us wait? We know where we’re going, so a couple people can stay behind.” 

“Because splitting the gang up has gone so fucking well for us so far.” 

“You can at least wait until everything is over to start with your cynical bullshit,” Kelly spat. “Simone, you and me will wait here for the rest of the gang. If they don’t show up by dusk, we’re leaving. The rest of you, get out of here this instant!”

No one dared question her.

Everyone left after that to settle into the wagons, except for Aliyah. She stood before Kelly, worrying at her hands and looking terrified. 

Kelly gathered Aliyah into her arms, already knowing what had upset her.

“I’m sure Nogla’s fine,” Kelly murmured, swaying gently from side to side. “He’s a slippery bastard, if anyone will get out of there, it’s him. Now get going, okay?” 

“What if-” 

“Don’t think about ‘what if’s’ it doesn’t do anyone good. Just think about how happy you’ll be when he comes back to you.” Kelly held her for a moment longer, then released Aliyah in the direction of the wagon waiting for her. 

It was going to be a bit difficult for them to move everything the camp had - there was only one driver per wagon available, and that could be problematic if they came across trouble on the road. But they had to follow the plan.

It felt as if the plan was all they had left.

Night fell, and the clouds opened up. The rain poured and poured down onto the city of Saint Denis, flooding the streets with mud and lowering visibility even further. 

Tyler could only hope that it would work to their advantage. 

They prepared to leave the building; satchels secured, jackets thrown on, faces covered.

“Stay close to me,” Tyler commanded before stepping into the rain.

Evan did as he was told, and kept close; it was difficult to focus, the pain in his arm had crossed the threshold of unbearable a few hours ago. 

It was both fresh and numb, the agony. Neverending, unbearable, familiar and steady. Evan kept his gaze on the back of Tyler’s head and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.. 

Getting to the train station was easy. Picking the train that they would be stowing away on was easy, there was only one that would be heading north. 

The difficult part would be getting onto the actual fucking train. The storage cars were locked up tight, and there were men - either police or Pinkerton, it was difficult to tell - lingering about the station, still searching for the outlaws that had wrecked the city.

“Fuck,” Tyler muttered, coming to a pause at the corner of the street. Crouched down low and out of sight, he surveyed the layout of the station. “Ev, don’t suppose you’ve got any dynamite or fire bottles leftover, huh?” 

Evan shook his head. “I’ve got nothing.” 

“Shit.” 

As Tyler’s thoughts raced, Nogla stepped forward. “Hey, Tyler?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You… uh, well it’s been an honor. Tell Aliyah I love her, okay?” 

Tyler shot up, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Wait, no,  _ don’t _ -” 

It was too late. Nogla took out his rifle, and shot one of the Pinkertons in the head. He ran out from the cover of the building, into the middle of the railway. Directly under a streetlight, where everyone could see him. “Lookin’ for me, assholes?” He shouted, shooting another man through the chest. 

He took off at a sprint into the city, firing at random and shouting various obscenities. It had the desired effect - every Pinkerton in the area chased after him. 

“Fucking idiot,  _ goddamnit _ !” Tyler hissed as he took the opportunity he’d been given. He raced to the train, and shot out the lock on the cargo hold. The noise was covered by the hellfire Nogla was raising, even through the distance he was putting between himself and the train station. 

Tyler dragged the remaining outlaws into the car before climbing in himself and slamming the door shut. 

“That goddamn idiot!” Scotty threw himself against the wall, for no other reason than the anger rising in his system. 

“Shut up!” Jonathan said, straining his ears as hard as he could. 

The gunshots continued until they didn’t. They stopped so suddenly. All was quiet. There was no more shouting, no more of the dumb whistles from the policemen.

It was as if Nogla had disappeared into thin air. But you didn’t just disappear in Saint Denis.

“Fuck,” Tyler collapsed onto the floor, letting himself come to terms with what had happened. With what he had caused. He’d never felt smaller in his life. 

“We have to be quiet,” Evan whispered. He felt for Jon, blindly grabbing at him in the pitch black of the train car. 

Jonathan had been searching for him too, and they held onto each other for a shred of comfort. The comfort that they had lived through the day. 

Scotty laid on the floor, unable to cope any longer. He felt his mind slipping away, distancing himself from what had happened. 

Tyler sat down in front of Jonathan and Evan, holding onto one of their hands and taking solace in the fact that they were still with him, still alive and breathing. 

Unlike too many of their gang. 

The train began moving within the hour, chugging steadily away from the city that Tyler would have no issue leaving behind. 

His biggest regret would forever be that they couldn’t go back and retrieve the bodies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, I'm gonna veer way the hell away from the actual plot of Red Dead Redemption 2. I didn't much like the whole Guarma chapter of the game, so I'm basically ignoring that and doing my own thing. I hope y'all like it.


	36. well, now fucking what

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang attempts to deal with the aftermath of the shitshow that was the Saint Denis bank robbery. Let's see who they're faring. (Hint - not well)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this chapter, I wondered "man, why is this taking so long to get done" and then I looked and it was over 6k words. Oops.
> 
> Also, Happy New Year!! May 2021 not suck so much. Do y'all have any resolutions or anything? So far, my only resolution is to finish this story. I can probably accomplish that.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Warning: there is some gore, and the emotions get kinda heavy in a couple spots.

Annesburg was a small logging town way up north, half-embedded into the mountainous land that bordered the Lannahechee River. The town itself was separated into elevations, as the levels were carved out on the mountain to be built upon. The first level seemed to be where the shops were, bisected by several lanes of train rails that lead to the station at the far end of town; the second and upward were houses, with the very top being the top of the hill and subsequently victim to logging. 

It was a far cry from the flat, swamp-ridden cesspool that was Saint Denis. That didn’t make it nice, though. 

Brian stopped the caravan of outlaws about a mile outside the town, crowding everyone into the forest. The smoke of the town could be seen between the tall trees, but they themselves were hidden within the foliage. 

“We should stay out of town for now,” He explained to his weary family. “I dunno how fast news travels so we should give them as little hints as possible as to who we might be.” 

“They wouldn’t be able to guess just from looking at us, I mean,” Chrissy gestured wildly to the group around them. “We look pathetic.”

“Either way, I don’t care. We’re not going into town, not until we know for sure where we’re going.” 

“So you don’t even know where the fuck we’re supposed to camp? Great.”

Brian whipped out a map from his coat pocket. “I do know! It’s called Beaver Hollow, and he marked it on this damn map! We follow the map, we find the place! We find the place, we set up camp, and we go from there!”

Lauren reached across the gap between the wagon he drove and the one she drove to place her hand on his shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’re okay. We’re all just stressed and on edge.” 

Brian melted under her touch, her presence alone enough to ease his rising temper. At least a little.

“If you have the exact location, why aren’t we all going?” Chrissy asked, softening her own tone as well. She leaned back in her seat, stretching her legs over the edge of her wagon.

Brock leaned forward, glancing around the group as if sharing a secret. “Isn’t this land up here Murfree Brood country?” 

“The fuck is a Murfree brood?”

“They’re a group of absolute insane motherfuckers that try an’ kill whoever passes through their land,” Lui answers nonchalantly as he pet Tiny the dog. He was the only outlaw who’d willingly put up with the energetic pup for the ride to Annesburg, playing with him as they traveled. 

Lauren snapped up, back ramrod straight and looking upset. “And we’re staying in their territory?” She asked, almost shrieked. “With our  _ baby _ ?”

Charlotte began to gurgle at her mother’s distress, responding to her with the beginnings of a cry. Lauren quickly adjusted her baby so she was settled against her chest, bouncing her lightly to distract her.

“Trust me, that’s been wearing a hole in my mind,” Brian assured her. “But I don’t really see another choice. So I was thinking that me and maybe someone else go and find this spot and clear it out. Then we set up camp, and wait for the others.”

“And what if they don’t show up?” Of course it was Smitty to ask the awful question that haunted the back of everyone's minds. 

Brian shook his head. “We can’t think like that right now. We just can’t.”

“I’ll go with you,” Chrissy offered, standing up and stretching her arms up to the sky. “I’m tired of doing nothing.” 

Brian nodded, grateful that he didn’t have to pick someone to accompany him on a potentially awful adventure. “Let’s head out then.” 

“Be safe,” Lauren said, patting Charlotte’s back with a pointed glance. 

“Always am, love.”

“Debatable.” 

Evan considered what life would be like on a train. Surely it couldn’t be awful, right? New places to visit all the time, constantly changing scenery, those were nice things, things he liked. Although the consistent motion could prove troublesome. Evan usually got a little sick from being on a train too long, but this time, he felt fine. Of course, he was distracted by the pain blazing through his entire body. 

The journey itself was only a few hours.

Evan spent that time attempting and failing to sleep. Jonathan sat beside him, almost watching over him. Guarding him from what, Evan didn’t know.

Scotty mumbled to himself, while Tyler sat in silence in the far corner of the train car.

It was unnerving. Grief hadn’t truly set in yet, not for their lost brothers and sister. It felt like their deaths hadn’t truly happened, even though they were witnesses to it all.

Every time Evan thought back to the bank, he grew more and more worried for Jonathan. The man had lost both of his brothers, now. One left him, the other sacrificed himself for him.

Who was left to care for Tiny the dog?

Kelly and Simone waited as long as they could.

The longer they stayed, the more certain Kelly felt that someone would come for them, seeking retribution for everything they’ve done. Standing in an empty camp, hardly a trace of any outlaw to be seen - it felt as if Kelly was looking at her future, her obsolescence manifested.

When she looked to the docks, Kelly saw the ghosts of herself and Brian sitting there, discussing Angelo Bronte. When she looked to the gazebo, she saw Evan sitting there to avoid the rest of camp. When she looked to the edge of the swamp, she saw the alligator dragging Bronte’s body into the mire. Yet none of it would mean anything soon. When she died, that would be it. 

A full-body shudder wracked through her body. She forced herself to look at the road.

Simone had lapped around the house for the fourth time, unable to stand still for even a moment. She walked her circles, shotgun in hand and ready for a fight. There was no fight to be found, though. She settled for taking place at Kelly’s side with questions burning in her mind. 

“What happened?” Simone asked finally. She’d been hesitant to ask, unsure of whether the other woman would want to talk about it.

Kelly sighed, like she knew this would happen. She probably did, she’d been building herself up for it all evening. She looked to the sky, to the sun that was lowering beyond the horizon. Dusk was coming up. They should leave by nightfall. Traveling in the dark wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t desirable in this situation. But they couldn’t stay here.

She wanted to avoid telling the story entirely. “We set up the dynamite perfectly,” Kelly eventually said, the words already burning her throat. Her eyes were on the trees around them, anywhere but the woman by her side. “It blew the building to pieces, just like was planned. Only, instead of city police, it was the fucking Pinkertons.” 

The horror she felt, when she realized who it was that had swarmed them, who it was that had signed their death warrants that day - that feeling would linger for a very long time. 

“The Pinkertons shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Simone said. “Why were they in Saint Denis?” 

“Someone fucking ratted us out, that’s why.”

“Then let’s hope the rat died.” 

“Simone!” The thought that one of their own who’d been shot before her eyes, or possibly left for dead in the streets, might’ve sold them out was too much to bear. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Well, maybe I did, I don’t know. I’d just rather the rat be  _ dead _ than still alive with Lauren and her child.”

“Or Tyler and the others?” Kelly probed, both figuratively and literally with her finger into Simone’s side. “They’re still out there, you know.” 

“Then where are they?” Simone threw her hands up into the air, frustration rolling off her in waves. “Why aren’t they here? Why are they not with us as we book it the fuck out of this disgusting fucking swamp?”

Kelly couldn’t answer that. She wished she could, more than anything else in the world, she wanted to be able to give those answers. She looked to the sky again, alight with reds and oranges and pinks. Dusk was upon them and it was beautiful. Kelly just wasn’t in the mood to appreciate the scenery anymore. 

“We should go,” She said, nudging Simone once more with her elbow. “We’ve been here long enough.”

Simone shook her head. “Another couple hours, okay?” She sounded horribly defeated and unflinchingly determined all at once. “Then we’ll head out.” 

“It’s a long way up to Annesburg.” 

“Just a couple more hours, please?”

“Okay, sure.”

“If we die on this train, I’m going to come back as a ghost and haunt your ass, Tyler. I swear to God, I’ll do it.”

“Scotty, shut the fuck up. We’ll be fine.”

“I think we’re close- oh, shit. Oh,  _ shit _ !” Brian stopped walking and stared at the object that had caught his boot and tripped him. 

A skull, bare of flesh and covered in dirt, stared back at him.

Chrissy came up next to him, further startling him. At his shocked yelp, she just glanced at him, then back at the skull.

“Do you mind?” Brian asked a little sharper than he meant to.

Chrissy picked up the skull, wiping dirt off and rolling it in her hands to examine it from every angle. She looked from it to the dirt path it was embedded in, which only led deeper into woods that looked the same as all the other forest around them. 

“Think he’s a warning?” She asked, still holding the damn thing in her hands. 

Brian huffed, and went back to looking at the map he’d wrinkled in his grip. “Fuckin’ probably. These Murfree bastards are nothin’ to laugh at, so I’ve heard. As crazy and bloodthirsty as they are inbred.” 

“I reckon they’ll be easy enough to deal with.” Chrissy wiped off another speck of dirt, then tucked the skull under her arm. “This the way?” 

“Yeah, it is. You’re really gonna bring that… thing?”

“You know I am. I think I’m gonna call him Reginald.” 

“Reginald?” 

“Yes. Reggie here is coming with us, so c’mon on, let’s get going.”

The train finally began to slow down.

Tyler stood, joints stiff from being immobile for far too long. He took a step and almost crumpled to the ground as pinpricks ran up and down his legs. He didn’t let it stop him, pushing on until he stood by what he hoped was the car door. 

The other outlaws moved further into the car, letting the shadows cover them. 

Muffled voices floated around the train, moving up and down beside the train cars. 

“What’re you doin’, Ty?” Scotty hissed, standing up himself. 

Tyler just shushed him, and continued to wait.

Eventually, footsteps drew near. He hoped to God it was just one person and readied himself. 

The metal door began sliding open, and Tyler’s hand shot through. He gripped the neck of the person opening the door and yanked them into the train car.

“Hey, what the fu-” 

“Friend, I’m going to need you to shut your goddamn mouth,” Tyler pressed his hand against the stranger’s mouth as he shoved the person against the now-closed door, and the train car was plunged back into the darkness. 

Scotty moved to the other side of the stranger as fast as he could, accidentally running into the wall when he forgot how small the train car was. “Fuck, what is this?” Even with his own questions, he stepped into line and kept the stranger confined to the wall. 

“If you scream, if you yell, if you do anything other than answer my questions very quietly, I will gut you like a fish and leave your entrails to hang out the train,” Tyler threatened, voice low. “Do I make myself clear, friend?” 

The stranger nodded vigorously, eyes wide and breathing troubled.

“What’s your name?” Tyler eased his hand off the stranger’s mouth just enough for him to talk. 

“T-Thomas O’Malley,” The man answered weakly.

“Okay, Mister O’Malley, nice to meet you. Where are we right now?” 

“Riggs Station, s-sir.” 

“That’s three damn miles outside Strawberry,” Jonathan informed him bitterly, standing between the stranger and Evan as he was lying on the floor.

“In what direction?” Tyler asked anyone. 

“West,” Thomas told him. “Strawberry is west.”

Tyler turned back to him. “Alright, friend. How long is the train going to be stopped here?” 

“I, I don’t know-” 

“Dammit, estimate! How long?” Tyler moved his arm so it fit nicely against Thomas’ throat, applying enough pressure to send the message. 

Thomas tried to press himself against the wall, as far from the outlaw as he could get. “I don’t know! We’re unloading supplies for Strawberry and loading up limber! A few hours at least, maybe until nightfall.”

“Lower your damn voice,” Tyler demanded. “What time is it now?” 

“Just after five in the evening.” 

Tyler replaced his hand over Thomas’s mouth and turned to the rest of the outlaws.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Jon dared to ask. 

“Tommy, can I call you Tommy?”

The stranger nodded, eyes still wide and frantic.

“Okay, Thommy. Can I trust you?” 

“No!” Jonathan hissed, taking a step towards them. “No, you can’t.” 

“I didn’t ask you, Jonathan. I asked our good friend Tommy.”

The stranger nodded once more. When Tyler’s hand eased off, he whispered, “Yeah, you can trust me, I swear you can, I swear on my Momma! She ain’t dead, but I swear on her that you can trust me-” 

Tyler cut off his babbling, ignoring Jonathan coming closer to him. “Tommy, I got a favor to ask of you. It’s real simple, I promise. If I let you go back out there to do your job, and all that, can you make sure that no one finds us? No one gets into this car, you hear me?” 

Thomas looked from Tyler to Scotty to Jon, then to Evan as he lay on the floor in the corner.

“Don’t look at them, look at me. Can I ask that of you?” 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Okay. And I’ll need you to let us know when it’s safe for us to come out, right? When there’s no one around, when we can slip away into the night. It’ll be like we were never even here.”

“You want me to let you know when it’s safe to leave?”

“That’s what I just said, friend.” 

Scotty raised his knife to Thomas’s throat. “Can we trust you to do that?” 

Thomas paled when he felt a sharpness touching the easily-pierceable flesh of his neck. “O-of course, you can trust me! I promise I won’t let you down, I swear to it, misters.” 

“If you do,” Jonathan took another step forward. “I’ll find you, understand? I’ll cut you open and leave your corpse for the crows. Then after a couple weeks, I’ll come collect what’s left and send it to that nice mother of yours. Do you understand me, Thomas?” 

“I-I surely do.” 

“Use your words.” 

“I understand what’ll happen to me if I let you fellers down.”

Tyler nodded. “Not just if you let us down, but also if any authorities, and I mean  _ any _ kind of authorities, hear about this. You don’t tell a soul about us.” 

“We’ll know if you do,” Scotty added.

The outlaws fell silent after that, allowing Thomas to really soak in the terror that was bubbling in his chest.

Once it looked like the man was going to piss his pants, Tyler cracked open the train car door and threw Thomas O’Malley out of it. He closed the door as the stranger hit the ground and waited. 

Nothing happened, as far as he could tell. No one saw Thomas fall out of the car, no one came running and shooting down the door.

“If this backfires on us,” Jonathan began.

“It won’t,” Tyler answered firmly. “Now we wait.”

It had taken the better part of the day, but the two outlaws eventually found the glory that was Beaver Hollow.

Chrissy took one look at the entrance to the camp and almost threw up in her mouth.

Brian saw what had upset her, and  _ did _ throw up in his mouth.

The skull in the ground may have served as a warning, but nothing could appropriately warn people of what was to come. An iron pole had been staked into the ground, and what had been shoved through was the gory remains of… what was most likely a person at one point. The person’s head had been cut off, the skin was flayed, and the body was impaled upside down, with the pole going through the exposed throat and out the shredded thigh.

Chrissy looked from the mutilated body to the skull in her hands with horror.

“It’s probably not the same feller,” Brian offered weakly. 

She didn’t want to risk it; she set Reginald down on the ground just before the iron pole. “We cannot stay here.” 

“We don’t have another option. I don’t want it any more than you do.”

The rest of the camp wasn’t as gruesome, from what they could tell. They were at the top of a small hill, a clearing in the woods that led into some caves. Large caves, with dim light being emitted from the back of them. 

The burnt wreckage of a stagecoach was the centerpiece to the clearing, surrounded by charred earth and ashes. 

“What is wrong with these hicks?” Chrissy murmured as they slowly entered the camp. “And where are they?” 

“Probably the caves,” Brian answered, pointing to the flickering light of a fire somewhere within them. “Let’s clear them out.” 

“What if more of them show up?” 

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

As the two of them entered the cave, Chrissy was suddenly beyond grateful that she had the foresight to bring a bow and arrow.

Once they got past the first tunnel, it was more cavernous than anything. Tall pillars of rock extended to the ceiling, and the elevation varied on seemingly random points. The occasional lantern placed in haphazard places poorly illuminated the twisting rocks. 

The most unnerving thing was the screams. A woman’s screams, it sounded like, coming from the far end of the cave.

Chrissy took the lead, taking out Murfrees as she saw them.

One was crouched over a dead body, stabbing it repeatedly and yelling about God coming for their soul. 

Another was standing, warming his hands over the blaze of a body that had been set aflame. 

One was passed out drunk on top of another wrecked stagecoach that had somehow been pulled into the caves.

They were all men, Chrissy noticed. The only woman here seemed to be the one getting horribly tortured.

They found the woman in the furthest section of the cave, more open than the rest and more heavily occupied. She was locked in a metal cage, being terrorized by three men that surrounded her.

Chrissy felt her stomach drop when she saw four more cages dotting the perimeter of the cave. She prayed that they were empty, and switched her bow for her rifle. 

Brian got out his shotgun and waited for her signal. 

“I didn’t want to leave them, you know?” 

Simone looked away from the road for the first time in two hours, to see Kelly’s face twisted into a troubled grimace. She waited, sensing Kelly had to get this off her chest.

“I saw Anthony and Lanai get shot before my own fucking eyes, and all I wanted to do was stab my knife into the chest of every goddamn Pinkerton there. I was ready to die if it meant that I would go down fighting.” 

“Then why did you run?” Simone asked, unable to help herself. It was burning her within, knowing that they had condemned Tyler and the others to death in the Saint Denis bank. Maybe it was burning Kelly too. 

“I didn’t want to! But Brian literally dragged me and Chrissy away, he didn’t even give us a damn choice. He just wanted to get back to Brock and Lauren without giving a single fucking thought to Tyler or Evan or Jon-” Kelly cut herself off with a deep breath.

Simone wrapped an arm around Kelly’s shoulder, holding her to her side. Enough contact to soothe, but enough leeway to slip out if she wanted. 

“We just left them there! I didn’t want to leave them, but I did, and now they might be dead!” 

“You can’t think like that, hon.” 

“How can I not? What if we could’ve done something? What if us abandoning them just sealed their fates? If they’re dead,” Kelly’s voice cracked, betraying the turmoil threatening to spill over.

Simone brought her in for a full embrace, letting Kelly burrow her face into the crook of her neck and grasp onto her.

“If they died because I was a fuckin’ coward, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself,” Kelly admitted, voice shaking with the effort of warding away a wave of sobs.

The shockwaves of her grief, her regret, resonated within Simone. It dragged her own emotions to the top, forcing them to be seen, to be felt. Forcing tears to her eyes and her chest to restrict. 

Simone wanted to break down and cry her eyes out right there and then. She couldn’t, she knew she couldn’t. She had to be strong so Kelly could be weak. Kelly was weak now, so she could be strong later.

“If they died, then we will avenge them,” Simone told her firmly. “We will hunt down every last Pinkerton until they are extinct if we must, and I will be by your side every step of the way. I promise.”

It took a moment, but eventually, Kelly stilled. Her breathing evened out, her grip on Simone lessened. She drew away completely, face hidden by her hair as she abruptly turned in the direction of their waiting horses. “We should go.”

Simone nodded despite not being seen. “Right behind you, honey.” 

Chrissy marveled at how damn easy the fight with the Murfree brood was. Within minutes, their bodies littered the ground. Despite having seen a gun or two lying around, none of the Murfrees bothered to use it; instead they just tried to rush Chrissy and Brian with an axe, or a sharp stick, or rusted machete or something of that nature.

“Are they insane or just stupid?” Chrissy asked as she dropped the last one with a nice shot between the eyes. She knew about the saying with knives and gunfights, but she didn’t know it to be so damn true.

“Who cares,” Brian muttered. He wasted no time in rushing over to the woman still locked in the cage, still screaming her head off. 

She was covered in all kinds of gore and viscera, from head to toe. What was once a nightgown covered her, but was now shredded and stained and even burned in some places. It didn’t do much in the way of covering her up anymore. Her body was littered with bruises and cuts, hardly visible under the dried blood that was caked onto every inch of her. 

She sobbed harder when Chrissy neared her cage, even backing away when she took out her knife. 

“Stay away from me!” She cried, voice cracking and raw. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Chrissy said, doing her best to sound comforting but more than likely coming across as constipated. She quickly cut the ropes holding the cage door shut, then put her knife away to hold up her hands. “I promise, miss, you’re safe now.” 

“Stay away, for the love of God, stay away!” The woman, if you could call her that - up close, it was easy to see how young she was - curled in on herself and backed away. 

Chrissy looked to Brian, then back to the girl. Not knowing what else to do, Chrissy darted forward, wrapping the girl up in a loose hug. “You’re safe,” She said, repeating it over and over like a mantra. “You’re safe, miss.”   
Something broke within the girl, hope mixing with relief and creating a fresh wave of sobs that wracked her body until Chrissy thought she was going to collapse. Her cries echoed against the walls, surrounding them with the broken cries of a broken teenager. 

“Let’s get her out of here,” Chrissy said, beckoning Brian over. 

He held his shotgun in one hand as he lent his other to the girl, letting her lean on him as they led her out of the cage, out of the caves. He tried to comfort her as best as he could, repeating that she was safe just as Chrissy did. 

The girl’s sobbing subsided, giving way to silent tears that cut tracks down the dried blood on her cheeks.

“What’s your name, miss?” Chrissy asked, shielding the girl from the sight of the burned body at the entrance of the cave.

“M-Meredith,” The girl said, coughing as her throat burned.

“Where you from, Meredith?” Brian asked, leading her towards his horse.

“Annesburg.” 

“We’ll take you there,” He promised. “We’ll get you far away from here. Can you ride until we get back to town?” 

“Here,” Chrissy came over, offering up her extra saddle blanket. “It smells like horse, but it’ll cover you up.” 

Meredith looked embarrassed at her state of dress as she allowed the outlaw to wrap the blanket around her. She gripped it tight in her thin hands, and looked back to the caves. “They… the others, they killed…” Her words failed her as her hands came up to cover her mouth.

“They can’t hurt you no more,” Chrissy told her firmly. “I’m gonna lift you up onto his horse, is that okay?” 

The girl nodded, stepped closer to the horse to make it easier.

Chrissy placed her hands on the girl’s waist and swallowed at how  _ frail _ she was. She wanted to ask how long the girl had been there, but she kept that to herself. She lifted Meredith up onto Brian’s horse, and waited for the Irishman to situate himself behind her on the saddle.

“Why don’t you stay here?” He asked Chrissy, shuffling a little as Meredith did her best to lean forward, to not touch him. “Get the place ready for the others, I’ll fetch them after I bring her back.”

“Think you’ll buy me enough time? If your woman sees the state of this place,” Chrissy trailed off, imagining the storm of hellfire Lauren would bring upon them all if she saw the bodies.

“We’ll make sure she stays out of the caves,” Brian agreed.

Chrissy hummed, then gave Meredith a side glance. “I thought you didn’t wanna go into town?”

“I’ll risk it,” Brian replied. “We’ll be back soon, hopefully.” 

“Be safe.” 

“We’ll ride slow,” He told the girl, nudging his horse into a light canter away from the camp. “You’ll be back home soon.” 

“I haven’t slept in days,” Meredith told him, leaning into him a bit as she did. One of her hands moved from the saddle horn to bring the blanket to her eyes, dabbing at tears as they continued to shed. “Those people - they’re monsters!” She hiccuped, probably an effort to hide a fresh sob. “Why would they do those things?”

Brian’s grips on the reins tightened. He made sure to keep the girl steady and secure. “They can’t hurt you anymore,” He said, though the words felt empty to him.

They must not to her, for the girl relaxed minutely. Her shoulders slumped, and her hand dropped down.

“We’re almost to town, miss. Where in Annesburg do you live?”

“One of the mining cottages. When you get to the main street, I can direct you from there. It’ll be easier to walk.” 

The rest of the ride was quiet, only the light pounding of hooves against the forest floor to disturb the silence. Meredith’s head fell against Brian’s shoulder, almost as if she was sleeping. He didn’t try to move her, figuring she needed the rest more than anything.

When they got the Annesburg, Brian felt the pressures of civilization curling within his chest in a wave of anxiety. He felt as though all eyes were on him, despite the opposite being true.

Brian urged the horse to a stop outside the general goods store, and helped Meredith down. Without a word, she took his hand in hers and led him through up to the top of the hill, to the row of the houses just on the edge of town. 

She dropped his hand to race up to the door. “Mom?” She called, knocking loudly on the wood. “Mom, you there?” 

“Meredith!” The door flew open, and out came an older woman with the same eyes as the young girl. “You’re alive!” She dragged the girl into a hug, leaning from side to side in her relief. “Oh my, you’re alive.” She took note of Brian standing awkwardly in the mud. “What happened?” 

“I’m afraid she saw some terrible things,” He told her honestly. “The Murfrees got a hold of her.” 

The mother looked to the girl with horror. “Are you okay?” She asked, though the answer was obvious.

Meredith shook her head vehemently. “Not really, Mama.”

“Oh, come in, let's get you a bath and some food, you must be starving.” The mother dragged Meredith into the house, letting the door close behind her. 

Content with what he’d done, Brian turned to leave. He made it about four steps before the mother raced out of the house, calling his name and holding out a meager stack of cash. 

“Please take this for helping my daughter,” She said, thrusting the cash and the saddle blanket at him. 

Brian looked to the money. He was sorely tempted to take it - he was still an outlaw at heart - but it felt wrong. “Keep it, keep the blanket too. Just make sure your daughter gets better, that’s all I need.” 

“You’re too kind, sir.” The mother nodded at him and returned to her home.

Brian left, feeling an odd sort of warm feeling encircle his heart.

After patiently waiting an eternity, there were three quick taps on the door of the train car.

Tyler sprang up from the floor; he felt for the handle, then slid the door open. 

Moonlight filtered through, illuminating Thomas’ fearful eyes as he watched the outlaw exit the car.

“You told no one?” Tyler asked pointedly, grasping the man’s arm and stepping off to the side. A quick look around the train station proved that it was empty; not another soul was to be seen. 

Scotty left the car next, followed Jonathan helping Evan down. 

“Not anyone, I ain’t told a soul, I promise, sir, I swear to you-” Thomas cut off his panicked ramblings when Tyler placed his hands on the sides of his head.

Tyler’s smile was warm, if empty. “Thank you, friend.”

His hands moved down to Thomas’ throat, and began to squeeze. And squeeze, and squeeze, harder and harder.

Thomas’ hands flew to Tyler’s, scratching and scrabbling in his attempts to free himself. Tyler didn’t let go, didn’t budge in the slightest. As the man weakened, Tyler lowered him to the ground. 

It was only when Thomas stopped moving at all did Tyler wrench his hands, using as much force as he could muster to snap the man’s neck.

When he turned back to his outlaws, he was met with varying shades of shock from everyone except Evan. Though, that was because Evan was too far gone with the pain in his shoulder to focus on what had just transpired in front of him. 

“Was that really fucking necessary?” Scotty hissed, searching the station around them for prying eyes.

“He was a liability,” Tyler answered smoothly. “Now follow me.” He started walking down the main path, head held high and hands steady. A titan against the night, as always. 

“Where we goin’?” Jonathan asked as he struggled to keep up while supporting Evan. He was grateful when Tyler slowed down enough for them, but wouldn’t mention it. 

“Strawberry. There’s bound to be some horses there, we can steal them and head up to Colter from here.” 

“So we’re still goin’ to Colter?” Scotty confirmed, taking place on Tyler’s other side.

“We ain’t got a choice.” 

“Maybe we should try and get Evan to a doctor before we head up there,” Jonathan prodded. “He does still have a bullet in him.” 

That thought had been nagging Tyler since Saint Denis. Evan was in pain, but nothing could be done about that right now. It was worse than when he had fallen into the grips of Tyler Blevins. 

Christ, that felt like a millennia ago. Tyler wondered if he’d ever get the chance to put a bullet in Blevins’ skull before they left for the west. 

“We can’t risk it,” Tyler said. The words were bitter on his tongue. “We have to get out of sight as soon as possible.”

“I’ll be fine,” Evan slurred, picking himself up long enough to form a coherent thought. “Jon’ll take care of me.” 

“I always do,” His lover murmured.

Upon arriving in Strawberry, it was obvious that they needed some fucking horses. It had taken far too long to trek the three miles from the train station, and they had much further to go. 

“Head to the north side of town,” Tyler told Jonathan as they passed by darkened shops. “Scotty and I will look around, see what we can find.” 

Jonathan merely nodded, readjusting Evan’s weight so he could bear most of it himself. “Don’t take too fucking long.”

The outlaws split ways once more, with Jonathan and Evan following the main street as Tyler and Scotty branched off towards the center of town.

Jon did his best to stick to the shadows. Though the town felt hollow, he knew better than to assume no one was out at this hour. 

He found a nice spot behind the post office, with a crate leaning against the building. He set Evan down on the crate, resolved to stand as they waited. 

“This sucks,” Evan murmured, closing his eyes and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Both my shoulders, man.  _ Both _ .” 

“I know. At least you’re even, now hush.”

It didn’t take too long for Tyler and Scotty to reappear, leading a couple of horses by the reins. The horses seemed uncertain but otherwise calm.

“Only two?” Jonathan helped Evan stand back up and met the other outlaws halfway. 

“That’s literally all that was out,” Scotty replied, handing over the reins to him.

Jonathan looked the horse in the eye; it was brown with white spots, suspicious of him. He wished he had a peppermint to give it or something. He mounted up first, then he and Tyler helped Evan up behind him. 

Tyler and Scotty took the other.

“It’ll take days to get to Colter like this,” Scotty said as they left Strawberry behind. “We can’t push these horses.” 

“We’ll get there, that’s all that matters,” Tyler took place beside Jonathan, on the watch for any sort of threat around them while Jonathan directed them.

As the town disappeared, the forest swallowed them up while the moon watched from above.

“Welcome home,” Brian said, rather uncheerfully.

The rest of the outlaws behind him fell quiet as they took in their new camp. Chrissy had thankfully gotten rid of the mutilated corpse that had decorated the front, but it didn’t look very inviting. 

Lauren directed her wagon into the clearing, next to the wrecked stagecoach leftover. She looked at it, then at Brian. “This is awful, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, um, don’t go into the caves. Ever. Just don’t do it.” Brian dismounted from his horse, then wandered over to said caves. “Chrissy? You in there?” 

“Yep!” Her call came resounding back a moment later, then the woman herself appeared. Her hands were disgusting, covered in a substance that was suspiciously dark and  _ gross _ . 

Brian wrinkled his nose at them, then saw the rest of her was also covered in soot. “What the fuck have you been doing?” 

Chrissy wiped her hand across her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt. “I explored the caves a bit more, and I found out that they lead all the way back out. I wanna say the tunnels go all the way to the top of this mountain, but I ain’t certain. I gathered the bodies and burned them in that last part of the cave, where the girl was. Speaking of the girl…” 

“Safe and sound back home.”

“So what now?” Lui asked, getting down from his wagon and looking at them expectantly. 

Brian turned to him, and saw everyone’s eyes on him. He paused, overly aware of how much he didn’t want this sort of thing to happen. He didn’t want to be the one people relied on for answers, not in this capacity.

Thankfully, Chrissy saw this. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, “We make camp and wait for Simone and Kelly to get here. Then we’ll figure it out.” 

“You heard the lady!” Lauren clapped her hands together and pointed to the wagons. “Start unpacking! We’re going to make this awful place our new home and we’re going to do it right!”

It was nearing the sunrise by the time Simone and Kelly crested over the hill and into camp.

Both of them were beyond exhausted in every meaning of the word. Kelly craved nothing but sleep, and she could tell Simone was faring the same way. 

Tents had been set up, only enough for those left to use them. A quick glance towards the wagons let Kelly know that the extra tents were waiting, ready to be pitched when their rightful owners returned. 

Because they  _ would _ return. Tyler, Evan, Jonathan, Ohm, Nogla, and Scotty would all return to them. They’d come back, and everything would be just as it was. 

Briefly, Kelly thought of Craig. He’d just disappeared when the Pinkertons opened fire, not a trace of him to be seen. She hoped he was alright, but deep in her heart, she didn’t much care.

A tent remained empty for her and Simone, canvas flaps hanging open and a lantern still lit inside. 

Wordlessly, the two women slipped inside and got ready for bed.

As Kelly laid on the bedroll, she waited patiently for sleep to come. It didn’t. Even as Simone’s breathing even out and she rolled onto her side, rest continued to evade Kelly.

She was so tired she couldn’t even be upset when baby Charlotte’s cries rang out, waking up the entire gang with how close they all were now.

Kelly dreaded having to face her family, having to tell them that the others were still missing. She knew she had to, they needed to know. 

For the first time in years, Kelly prayed. She prayed to whoever was listening that her family would make it through this.

It didn’t make her feel much better, but it was something. Miracles happened all the time, even to people who may be undeserving of them.

With that thought in mind, Kelly dragged herself from the tent to face her family. 


	37. don't wanna get your hopes up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are formulated. Letters are sent. A promise is made.

They didn’t make it very far before they had to set up camp for a few hours. The sun had risen, giving way to a beautiful morning. Birds chirped, squirrels rustled about, nature was at peace.

In the midst of the serene forest, Evan gave a muffled scream, biting into the jacket stuffed into his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jonathan uttered, focusing on the sole job of digging the bullet out the man’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise-” His knife went too far around the damn thing, and Evan wrenched himself as far as he could, despite Tyler and Scotty both holding him down.

“Hurry it up, Jon,” Tyler urged, fighting the urge to puke up whatever was left in his stomach. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Jonathan held his breath and  _ dug _ hard. The bullet finally came free, and with it, a howl of pain from Evan.

Scotty rinsed the wound with whiskey, while Tyler pressed a needle and some thread into Jon’s hands.

“Strawberry’s doctor might be a little light on some supplies when he wakes up,” Scotty explained as he waited with gauze and a clean rag.

Jonathan nodded and got back to work. He wasn’t as good at sewing wounds as Simone was, the woman had all the practice in the world with how often they got themselves injured. When Jon was hurt, he went to her. Before he had her, before he had a gang, he would have Ohm or Luke stitch him up.

The thought of his brothers made his throat start to close up. He pushed them away, focusing on how damn shaky his hand was. He stilled it long enough to get some shoddy stitches closing up the wound. They were more than likely to pop open with even the barest strain, but they would have to do. 

He dressed the wound in gauze, and let Evan have as much of the whiskey as he could stomach.

“Thanks,” Evan mumbled. He flopped back down onto the ground, content to sleep away the next month if he could.

Jonathan pet his hair lightly, settling next to him. Scotty began cleaning up the rest of their supplies. 

Tyler stood, feeling unwelcome for some unknown reason that didn’t sit well with him. “I’ll go get us something to eat.”

“You do that.” 

The first time the remnants of the gang convened as a group at Beaver Hollow was a solemn occasion. Despite it being early in the morning, liquor was passed around for everyone. 

Kelly poured a generous helping of whiskey into her coffee before passing the bottle on. 

Everyone could tell from the lack of a certain six outlaws that she and Simone were unsuccessful in bringing them home.

She couldn’t help it, she literally had no hand to play in the matter, but Kelly still felt guilty. She felt guilty for failing her family, for failing to bring home the men that play such a key role in keeping them all afloat. 

Once everyone left was gathered around the fire and had some booze to soften the blows, Kelly cleared her throat. “So, obviously, the others are still missing.”

Because they  _ were  _ missing. Not dead in the gutters of Saint Denis, not arrested by Pinkertons. Just missing. 

A brief moment of silence passed over the group. Grieving, or something like it.

“With all the money too,” Lui added rather callously. 

“That’s your major concern right now?” She snapped, hand tightening around the cup in her hand. 

He just raised his hands, palms toward her. “I’m just sayin’, you know? They have everything from the bank, and we’re left with nothing.” 

“We’ve just enough,” Simone gave him a pointed glare. “We’ll survive, we always have.”

Brian sighed. “Much as I loathe to admit it, bastard’s got a point. Saint Denis was supposed to be our big break, and then we would be free.”

“We’ve always been free,” Kelly leveled her gaze over the outlaws standing before her. “Free to stay, free to leave. So if any of y’all have gotten cold feet, now’s your chance.” 

“No one’s leaving, dear,” Lauren was quick to placate her. “We’re just… airing our grievances, is all.” 

“Well keep it to your damn selves.” 

“Christ, this feels like Blackwater all over again,” Chrissy rubbed her face.

Brian bristled at that. “Fuck you, you weren’t even there-” 

“I didn’t need to be, I saw how badly y’all fucked it up for the rest of us!” 

“Stop!” Kelly demanded, voice booming over the fighting. “Now more than ever we need to keep our damn heads, so shut the fuck up and focus. We need a plan.” 

“We should make ourselves scarce,” Brian said immediately. “Get past those stupid mountains, at the very least.” 

“With that what money?” Simone lamented. “We would need to stockpile supplies and the like. That’s not an option, I’m afraid.” 

“She’s correct,” Smitty piped up from the sidelines. He and John had kept to each other a lot more than usual, these last few days. “I think our best bet is to just wait here.” 

Brock shook his head. “It’s too dangerous out here for us.”

“With the muscle of our camp gone, I’m inclined to agree,” Lui added.

“We can manage just fine for a short bit,” Kelly argued.

“How short, though? How long do we wanna stay in Murfree Brood country?” 

“As long as we need to for Tyler and the others to come back to us. They know we’re here, it’s just a matter of when they can safely travel.” 

“What if we can’t wait for them?” Lauren asked. “What if they never show?” 

“They will.” 

“But what if they don’t?” Aliyah took a step forward, voice firm despite the fear in her eyes of the very outcome she was describing. “We need to acknowledge that they might very well be dead.” 

“You can’t think like that-” 

“The hell I can’t! The man I love might be dead, same as the rest of those idiots! It’s a fact, Kelly, one you’re in denial of and I can’t stand it anymore! If they’re dead, we need to plan for that.”

Shocked at her outburst, Kelly fell silent. 

Smitty looked between the two women, gnawing at his lip as he thought. “Someone could go into town. Post letters under an alias, asking when they think they can get back to us.”

“If they’re smart, they’re avoiding all civilization possible,” Brian said. 

“It’s worth a shot.” Kelly ran a hand through her hair, grimacing as it got caught on several knots. “We should send a letter to every damn town we’ve been too, from Strawberry to Rhodes. Who knows where those idiots might be hiding.”

_ Besides under the ground _ went unspoken.

“And how long do we wait after that? How long are we willing to be sitting ducks?” Lui asked.

“We aren’t sitting- fine, how ‘bout a month,” Kelly reached for the bottle of whiskey.

“A month?” Lauren shook her head. “We can’t stay here that long, this area’s far too dangerous. I’m not comfortable with that.” 

“How about two weeks?” Brian offered before Kelly could argue. “We wait two weeks, then figure something out.” 

Chrissy pursed her lips at that. “We shouldn’t wait to have a backup plan.” 

“Then fuckin’ think of one.” 

“Just to clarify,” Kelly cleared her throat. “We are, in fact, laying low right now. I mean it, no jobs, no going into town unless someone’s dying, no nothing. We stay here where we’re out of sight.” 

Lauren raised her hand. “I’d appreciate it if we set up watch. I really don’t feel comfortable here with Charlotte.”

“Of course. We’ll go in pairs, set up a rotation.” 

“I assume we’re on a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ mindset for the moment?” Lui asked.

Kelly nodded. “Anyone shows up and we don’t know ‘em, shoot them dead.” Their current list of enemies was far too long for them to take a single risk.

Jonathan looked around the mining town of Colter. It took only a few moments for him to decide he didn’t miss much from when the gang had hidden here, almost a year past at this point.

Almost a year past, Blackwater had gone so horribly wrong. Almost a year past, Jonathan had been captured by bounty hunters, while Tyler led the gang into the mountains, hoping for a snowstorm in May to obscure their tracks.

“You guys really holed up here?” Jonathan asked, letting some minor disgust creep into his tone.

Tyler and Scotty dismounted their horse, letting the tired thing get some rest. “It was prettier with snow covering everything,” Tyler admitted as he helped Evan down, slinging his uninjured arm over his shoulders to support him. “We stayed here, come on.”

He led the others into the main housing unit that they had stayed in all those months ago. Traces of their sojourn were still visible - empty cans, a smashed liquor bottle, shreds of clothing that had probably been used as makeshift bandages.

Tyler placed Evan down one of the few remaining cots. He was still awash in pain, and rather useless from it.

Tyler went to get up, but was stopped by a set of arms wrapping around him tightly enough to knock the air from his lungs. He froze for a moment before he remembered himself, and hugged Jonathan back.

Jon pressed his face into Tyler’s shoulder, saying nothing in the way to explain himself. He just needed to  _ feel _ Tyler, to ensure that the man in front of him was real. That he wasn’t gone.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler whispered, knowing that those two little words could not possibly encompass everything he felt. The unmeasurable guilt he felt, the anger, the fear - all of it was too much to express, even for him, who spun words together for a living.

Jon’s breathing hitched violently. He yanked himself away, wiping furiously at his eyes. “You stay with Ev, make sure he doesn’t come down with a fever. I’m gonna check the rest of this shithole out.”

Tyler watched him leave, unable to do anything to stop him. He just sat on the ground beside Evan, pressing a kiss to his cheek and hating that he didn’t respond to it, not even a twitch.

Scotty sat down against the wall, leaning his head on it and closing his eyes.

Tyler was grateful when he said nothing, grateful for the silence. He wasn’t Tyler Wine, notorious outlaw and leader of a fearsome gang, not right now. Right now, he was just a man who had fucked up bad. He’d never felt smaller.

Jonathan wandered the length of Colter, desperately thinking of anything except how alone he felt.

Logistically, he knew he wasn’t alone. He still had Evan and Tyler; he loved them dearly, even through all the bullshit and the fighting and the tension. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but their side.

He knew he wasn’t alone. It still felt like it, though.

He met Ohm and Luke when he was roughly fourteen, just one more orphan crowding the streets of the shitty little town buried deep in the south, far from any kind of civilized land. From a horribly young age, Jon was one of the many street rats running around, constantly looking for trouble.

Jon found trouble on the regular. He’d pickpocket from anyone who passed by him, regardless of whether they’d even have anything worth stealing. He got caught more often than not. He’d pick fights with the other boys, resorting to dirty tactics to ensure he won. He spent more time in the town jail than he had spent with a roof over his head.

The years passed and he was fine with his way of life, he told himself. Fine with living like a feral dog, fine with never having a home, never having a friend. He didn’t need companionship, he told himself.

Until he met Ohm and Luke.

The two of them had come waltzing into town, spinning absolute nonsense about looking for investors in some fake company.

Jon wasn’t sure how, but he knew it was fake. Seemed he was the only one, though. The town’s richer inhabitants, few in numbers but large in wealth, fell for their scheme. Bought fake shares, whatever those were, of some trading company based in Portugal, wherever that was.

Jon didn’t understand the terminology, nor the mechanics of how the scheme worked. What he did understand was that those two men - maybe a few years older than he was, yet infinitely wiser - walked away with a hundred dollars after only a week.

They left the town soon after. Jonathan followed as best as he could. They were on horse, he on foot, but he had his heart set on that money. He wanted all of it, but he’d settle for enough to get a room at the inn, maybe some dinners for the next few nights.

Of course, they had sensed him following them. He wasn’t the least bit sneaky, managing to stumble over air.

They invited him to share their fire one night. They shared some of their food with him - dried venison and canned strawberries. He devoured it all too quickly, like a starved beast.

It was Ohm that invited him to spend the night with them. It was Luke that gave him some tips and tricks on how to go unnoticed in a crowd.

Jonathan waited until he was sure the two of them had fallen asleep to make his move. He reached for Luke’s satchel; his mind was so consumed with the thought of that money sitting in his own pocket that he missed when Ohm sat up.

It was only when a knife impaled itself directly next to the satchel, it’s trajectory less than an inch from shaving off some of Jon’s hand, did he pause.

Ohm held a second knife in his hand, expression passive but eyes curious. “We help you out and you go on and try to rob us, huh? Where’s your sense of companionship? Camaraderie?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Jonathan told him, hand still outstretched towards the satchel.

“It means that we helped you out of the goodness of our hearts.” 

Jonathan knew what was coming - these men helped him, so he owed them for something. He was ready to turn tail and run if needed.

“The least you could do is wait until you’re offered some of our spoils before deciding that they are yours for the taking.” 

“You stole them first!”

“So we did.” Ohm raised an eyebrow. “You knew, that’s why you followed us, huh?”

Jon just nodded.

“Smart, kid. You’re very smart. I think we can help each other, whaddya say?”

“Why would I help you?”

“Because I want to help you. You were born for greater things than living as a street rat.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.” 

“Well, I want to. Sit back down, tell me about yourself. I’ll tell you about myself, in return. I ask a question, you ask a question. Only if you want, of course. If you don’t, you’re more than welcome to go back to that shithole and live out the rest of your days with hunger being your only friend.”

It was that moment, those words, that sealed the deal for Jon. He stayed with them that night, and the night after that, and for every night for the next fifteen-odd years.

It was Luke and Ohm that had saved Jonathan’s life. And he let them both down. 

There was a grave, hidden in the shadows at the edge of the abandoned town. Jonathan almost missed it, between the tears that stubbornly sat in his eyes, and how the grass had grown back over it.

The only thing hinting at its existence was a shitty, crooked wooden cross, fallen at an angle and weathered by the elements.

Jon wondered who died. He thought back, he dug through his memories, searching for any hint as to who could be lying in the ground before him.

Try as he might, he came up with nothing. His memories of that time were hazy at best, muddled and indiscernible at worst. Those bounty hunters had done a number on him, both physically and mentally.

He wished he could remember Luke leaving. Wished that he hadn’t left during the night, wished that he could give his brother a proper goodbye. Wished even more that Luke hadn’t left, that he’d stayed with him and Ohm.

Wondered if it would’ve been better for all of them if they had never joined up with Tyler and Evan. Ohm might still be alive, Luke would still be with them, they could live happily ever after together, as brothers. As a family, with Luke and his wife Genay. They could’ve gotten married under the law, had a grand ceremony- 

Jonathan jerked away from the grave.

He remembered.

Remembered laying in his cot, recovering from what those damn bounty hunters had done to him. Waking up to find Luke with a shitload of new scars, and Ohm sitting at the foot of his bed. Wondering where Genay was, asking why she wasn’t there - she did love to mother Jon like no other - Luke getting up and leaving camp for a few hours after that.

Jon sank to his knees, the tears in his eyes finally spilling over, burning tracks down his cheeks. His brother’s wife was buried underneath him, and he hadn’t even remembered that she died.

He let her down too.

Simone elected herself for the trip into town. She was the least likely to be recognized by any type of lawman. With her hat set low over her face, she made it to the post office. Nestled in her jacket, a bundle of letters weighed her down more heavily than if they were rocks.

Written under Brian’s alias, one Harrison Ferguson had written several invitations for a certain Herbert Dinkle (Evan’s least favorite alias to use, one that was only used when there no other options) and his brothers to their stint up in Annesburg. Ferguson would only be staying for a fortnight, so it was imperative that Dinkle and his accompaniment didn’t spare their horses in their journey.

She posted the letters, heart sinking a little at the price. It wasn’t too much to bear, nor was it unaffordable by any means. It just hurt, was all. Hurt to spend any money they didn’t necessarily have to. 

Simone left Annesburg, eager to make it back to the safety of camp. Even without thousands of dollars’ worth of bounties over her head, it still felt far too dangerous to be anywhere near civilization right now. Like she was asking for trouble by merely existing too close to the sheriff’s office. 

She felt as if one wrong breath would bring down the weight of the law upon her and her family.

By the time Jonathan returned to the main building, the sun was setting. The fireplace was alight with a small blaze, so he took a spot on the hearth to warm up. This high up in the mountains left a constant chill over the land, no matter the time of year. 

Scotty and Tyler were sitting together in the certain of the room, hunched over all their satchels. Evan was sitting up on his cot, hands folded in his lap and watching with unfocused eyes.

Content to wait for whatever they were doing, Jon rested his eyes.

A good few moments later, and Tyler stood. Scotty leaned back so he was resting on his back, staring at the ceiling with disbelieving eyes. 

“What’s up?” Evan asked when they didn’t share.

Tyler turned to him with a crazed smile. “Our haul, from the bank, it’s-” 

“Fucking incredible!” Scotty laughed, full of relief and awe. “Holy shit, if this isn’t enough now, I’ll eat my fuckin’ pants.” 

“How much is it?” Jonathan turned his back to the fire, warily eyeing his lovers. 

Tyler whirled to face him, walking over and gathering Jon’s hands in his. “It’s,” he shook his head in disbelief. “It’s  _ forty thousand _ .” 

“You’re shittin’ me,” Evan pushed himself off his cot, ambling over to where Scotty still sat with their take. “That can’t be.” 

Scotty showed him everything, hurriedly pointing to his carefully-sorted piles as he explained, “About a quarter of it’s cash, but most of it is more bearer bonds. These are worth more than they look if we can find some good buyers, which surely there must be out west, someone willing to pay for these. We shouldn’t risk selling any ‘round these parts, but-” 

“I reckon we can leave for the frontier as soon as we meet up with the rest of us at Annesburg,” Tyler said proudly. “This is it, y’all. Our fresh start is so close, I can almost taste it.”

“Where have we heard that before?” Jonathan took his hands from Tyler, stepped around him to settled on the floor next to Evan. He looked over the stacks of bills, bearer bonds, even a few pieces of jewelry that were sure to get a decent amount from any fence. He took it in for himself, the great deal of wealth sitting before him.

“We’re rich now,” Evan murmured, almost absentmindedly if it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze on the bonds.

Tyler filled in the last space between Jon and Scotty, plopping himself down and damn near vibrating with his excitement. “We’re fucking rich now!”

Evan looked at him, then back at the money. His thoughts raced with all the possibilities of what they could do with it, his heart struggling to keep up with the surge of painful hope fighting to burn him alive. He staggered to his feet and left the building, damn near knocking what was left of the door down in his haste to get away.

Tyler looked to Jon, seemingly just as confused as he was.

“Someone should go after him,” Scotty said.

“You go,” Jonathan said before anyone else could. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Nodding dumbly, Tyler dashed after his lover.

He didn’t have to go far; Evan had only made it to where the horses were hitched. He was leaning heavily against the one he’d ridden with Jon, petting it gently as he’d tried to control his breathing.

Tyler stomped his boots a little to ensure his approach wasn’t a surprise. “What’s wrong, love?”

Evan didn’t turn around, didn’t so much as twitch. If he’d heard him, he didn’t show it.

Tyler stepped closer. He could reach out and touch Evan’s back if he so wished, but he kept his hands to himself for now. “Penny for your thoughts,” He said, softer this time.

“Do you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” 

Evan’s head tilted to the side so he wasn’t speaking into the horse. “Do you mean that this time, for real, we’re finally leaving all this shit behind? Do you fucking mean it?” His voice took on an edge so hard that it had Tyler taking a step back.

“Of course, I mean it. We have more than enough money now, it’s the best option we got, it’s what you want, it’s… it’s possible, this time. We can do it.”

“It was possible after Valentine.” 

Tyler wanted to fight him, wanted to say  _ no, it wasn’t _ . “It’s possible now,” He said instead.

Evan finally turned around, looking every bit the ragged outlaw that he was. He had the look of a man that had been run into the ground several times over, but had gotten up every single time. Except maybe this was the time that kept him down for good. “I want you to promise me something, Tyler Wine. Promise that you won’t back down from this again. That this time you’ll go through it. You’ll see us all to the frontier, we’ll buy that land, make a home out of it. Fucking promise me.”

Tyler swallowed, throat suddenly drier than anything. He took Evan’s hands in his, grasping them tightly to his chest. He met Evan’s gaze, desperately trying to convey every last drop of sincerity into his voice as he said, “I swear to you, Evan Fong, the love of my life, that I will get you to the freedom of the west if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.”

Evan searched his eyes, but didn’t find what he wanted. He drew his hands away, turning back to the horse. “I can’t keep doing this, Tyler. Every goddamn time we get close, something goes wrong and you decide to go about the worst possible way of fixing it. Moving east, ‘laying low’ and then stirring up more trouble than ever.”

Tyler remained silent. 

It was easier to let the words, the feelings, the anger that had been piling up for so long, finally spill. It was easier to talk to a horse than to the man who’d let him down so many times before. Evan started braiding the horse’s tail, just to busy his hands.

“I have wanted this for years. It’s all I’ve wanted, really. To build a house with you, to make it a home, to  _ have _ a home. For you, for me, for Jon. For everyone, I wanted to make a safe space for all of us. You agreed, you said you wanted it to, that it was a great idea. But every time we take one step towards that goal, you end up dragging us three steps behind. I can’t keep living like this.”

He finished the braid, undid it, started over. “If you renege on me one more time, I’m done. I’ll take my share of the money and I’ll go west on my own. Might even bring Jon with me, if he’ll agree.” He finally looked up, meeting Tyler’s tear-filled gaze. “I love you more than anything, Tyler Wine - I have for a very long time - so don’t make me choose between you and myself. Because I will make that choice if I have to.”

He turned his attention to the braid, effectively shutting Tyler out of his little bubble.

Tyler, who felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a great precipice. If he fell, he’d fall forever. There would be no coming back from something like that, no redeeming himself. To run off the man he loved, to possibly lose  _ both _ of the men he loved - it couldn’t happen. It wasn’t an option.

He felt consumed by the need to do right by Evan. To give him everything he’d ever wanted, in exchange for the years of wrong choices, of selfish greed.

A plan started formulating in his mind. It was ambitious and dangerous, possibly too much for their exhausted little gang. The end reward would be worth it all. It had to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evan has had enough and I can't say I blame him. I also didn't mean to go so in-depth with Jonathan's backstory, but it just kinda happened and I like it, so it stays.


	38. some good news, for once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler, Evan, Jonathan, and Scotty make it to Valentine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA so second semester classes have started, and I may have taken on too much. We'll see. Either way, I'll do my best to update on a regular basis but who knows what that might actually look like. 
> 
> Anywho, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. If you've made it this far in the story, thank you so much. Y'all are troopers.

The days passed with horrible monotony.

Evan did his best to just sleep them all away, since there was hardly any point in staying awake. His arm was slowly starting to feel the tiniest bit better; the pain was still there, still biting at him, mostly preventing the sleep he so dearly desired. At least it didn’t seem to be getting infected. That was all that mattered, as far as that went.

Laid up in the main building, Evan watched the others come and go.

None of them left the confines of Colter unless it was to go hunting, and even that was rare. It was starting to wear on them all, in different ways.

Tyler would excuse himself to one of the other buildings, so his pacing wouldn’t disturb any of the others. He spent more time on his own than he had in years. He used this time to think his plans through and through, for once. The ins and outs, the pros and cons, all of it. He was determined, if nothing else, to see everyone through to the end. His boots began to wear tracks into the dirt floor. 

Jonathan spent most of his time by Evan. He couldn’t stand being alone, not now. His thoughts would spiral, consuming him with grief and anger, all measures of things he couldn’t afford to feel right now. There would be time for that later, he promised himself. Time to truly sort through his feelings when they were all safe. Not now though, not when they could drive him over the edge.

Scotty flickered around them all. He’d check in on Tyler, on Evan and Jon, on the horses. He did most of the hunting, silently bearing the needs of the outlaws he was stranded with. He was the rock they all needed, the steadfast force to keep them from doing something stupid.

On the seventh day, he saddled one of the horses. Only one, under Tyler’s instruction. 

Evan noticed this through the shattered window; he stumbled out of the housing unit, ignoring Jon behind him calling his name. 

“What’s this?” He asked, stomping up to Tyler and meeting his unfeeling gaze. 

“You and Jon are leaving first. It’ll be safer to travel in pairs.” 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“I'm not arguing with you on this-” 

“The fuck you aren’t, and the fuck we’re leaving separately. I won’t stand for it. We all leave together, or we don’t leave at all.” 

Jonathan caught up with them, eyes darting wildly between the two of them. He wanted to intervene, but he wasn’t quite sure how to while also avoiding getting caught in the crossfire. He saw Scotty edge closer as well; he shook his head, signaling to stay back for now.

“Evan Fong, you will get on this horse and take Jon and get the fuck out of here or so help me.” 

“What’re you gonna do, Tyler Wine? You gonna shoot me? You gonna hogtie me? Cause that’s what it’s gonna take.” Evan crossed his arms. “I’m not letting you out of my goddamn sight for even a moment, not with the entire country out for our heads. I haven’t lost you yet, and I don’t plan on it anytime soon.” The anger in his tone covered the hurt he was feeling, at least on the outside. 

Tyler stared him down, neither of them moving an inch. “It’s safer this way,” he insisted. 

“No doubt about that,” Evan agreed mildly. “I just don’t give a rat’s ass. Forgive me, but I’d rather not be separated. I’m sure the others agree?” He gave Jonathan a  _ very _ pointed look. 

Jonathan nodded rapidly. “Oh yeah, definitely, we should all go together.” 

Scotty took a step forward. “I would feel more comfortable that way, boss.” 

Their leader stood silent for a moment, irked and tired. Too tired to further bicker when he was already beat, he decided. He threw his hands into the hair and gestured at the other horse. “Then someone get this damn thing saddled up and we’ll all leave  _ together _ then!” 

So they did. 

Two per horse, moving slower than was preferable, they left Colter behind. Permanently, this time.

It took them almost a full day to get to Valentine. Jonathan blamed his battered body wearing down on his mind for how long it took him to recognize the spattering of roads they found themselves on. 

“What is this, what are we doing?” Jonathan asked sharply, startling Evan out of the daze he’d been in for the last hour. 

Tyler kept his eyes on the road; the sun was setting and he didn’t want any surprises to pop out. “We’re heading to a safe place to camp.” 

“Yeah, it’s so safe the Pinkertons found us there.” 

“They won’t still be here. We’ve made enough noise down south, they’re far gone.” 

“You can’t be sure,” Evan told him. “They have patrols out all the damn time. I’d rather we sleep in the middle of Valentine than go back to Horseshoe Overlook.” 

“There’s plenty of woods around Valentine, surely we could find somewhere else to rest.” 

“Why do we even need to go back to that stupid town? We shot it to hell like we have every other bit of civilization we’ve had the unfortunate luck of coming across.” Jonathan fiddled with the reins in his hands, fighting back memories of their last visit to that awful place. 

It was clear as anything, the memory of the Pinkerton pressing their gun to his head, the cold metal pushing into his temple. Watching the fear in Evan’s eyes as they realized that Cornwall had had enough of their nonsense. 

A phantom pain shot up through Jonathan’s leg. He squeezed it idly, trying to recall if he’d been shot that day. He probably had been. 

“We should steer clear, is what I’m sayin’,” He finished his thoughts.

“One of us needs to go into that town no matter what,” Tyler told them, his way of conceding to their worries. He kept his horse on the main road, passing the woods where Horseshoe Overlook was nestled. He figured they could camp out on the other side of Valentine. 

“I’ll do it,” Scotty volunteered. “I wasn’t there the day it all went to shit.” 

“The first time, anyway,” Jonathan muttered his breath. 

Tyler shot him a look that told him his remark wasn't welcome. Then he glanced back to the road. “I appreciate it, Scotty.” 

“You should buy a couple more horses while you’re there,” Evan added. “Since we have the money now.” 

“Can’t even remember the last time I came across a horse honestly,” Scotty admitted. “Usually just steal ‘em.” 

“We’re gonna be law-abiding citizens soon anyway, right? Might as well start now.” 

“You did  _ what?” _

Kelly winced from the volume. “Christ’s sakes, Brian, calm yourself. It’s no big deal.” 

“No big deal? You just killed three people and it’s no big deal? What happened to lying fucking low?” 

“They was part of that Murfree Brood, no one’s gonna miss them.” Kelly bypassed Brian, aiming for the Barrus’ as they stood by the temporary kitchen. Her shoulders were aching from the dead deer she’d been risking her own skin to get for them.

He followed closely, flailing his hands about as he went on, “That ain’t the point, how close are they to camp? Will they draw attention to us?” 

“Not close, and no. The bodies are deep in the woods, no one’s gonna find them. At least, no one who cares.” She threw the carcass down onto the table, nodded at the Barrus’, then headed for the nearest washbasin. Her hands were absolutely filthy after all that. 

Brian managed to soften his anger enough for concern to peek through. “You should be more careful.” 

“People gotta eat, don’t they? Don’t worry about me.” 

“People gotta eat but you don’t have to put yourself at risk just to find a mangled-lookin' deer-” 

“Hey now, that deer is perfectly fine.” 

“I’m not sayin’ that it isn’t, I’m just… worried.” 

Kelly looked up from her relatively clean hands to give Brian a nod and a half-smile. “I get it. I’ll try harder to stay away from the Murfree’s, how about that?” 

“Appreciate it.” He walked away, leaving Kelly to her thoughts. 

Scotty faced Valentine with trepidation running through his blood like ice, chilling him to his core.

Tyler had dropped him off somewhat close to the post office before returning to Evan and Jonathan. It was less suspicious if Scotty arrived by himself. He kept his hat low over his eyes, head bent to obscure his face. 

He took a deep breath and started walking. 

It felt as if all eyes were on him, but a few furtive glances proved him wrong; the people of Valentine didn’t give a shit about him. They passed by him as if he was merely a ghost, busy with their own lives. 

He saw a few bounty posters around the shops. Exclusively Tyler, Evan, Jonathan… and Nogla. They were worn with time - most likely put up around the time they shot up the town - left to bear the elements. Moreso as a reminder than a calling, it seemed. The bounties themselves were high; thousands of dollars each. 

He paused by one that depicted Nogla; the sketch wasn’t bad, all things considered. It was recognizable, and it  _ hurt _ to look at. Scotty ripped it off the wall, stuffing it into his pocket. It was the closest thing any of them had to photograph of the man. 

Scotty ignored the rest of the posters proclaiming high payouts for lesser men and made his way to the stables.

“Mornin’, sir,” The stablehand greeted him cheerfully. “Need a horse?” 

“Two, actually.” Scotty followed the man into the stables, noting with relief there were four horses in the stalls. 

The stablehand gave him a curious smile. “Whatever for, mister?” 

“Travel. My hunting partner and I, we was up north, up in the Grizzlies, and my horse succumbed to the cold. His mare, poor thing, was old; she passed a few days after we got back home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Well, we got some good choices in here, right now. Is your hunting partner around?”

“No, he’s back at the house. He don’t care much what kinda horse he’s got, as long as it goes, you know?” 

“Of course. And you, mister? You have a preference?” 

“Not particularly, but,” Scotty wandered over to a tall black shire that  _ he’d _ struggle to mount, but  _ Tyler _ , the tall bastard, would have no problem. “I’ll definitely take this one. And the other, well, I’ll buy the cheapest horse you got.” 

“Want me to get both of them saddled up as well?” 

“Yes, sir. I’ll ride one, lead the other.” 

“You sure about that, mister?” The stablehand went about the process of saddling up the horses, shooting Scotty glances as he did. “These are some big horses, it might be too much if they get spooked-” 

“I’ll be just fine, but I appreciate your concern.” Scotty stepped back towards the exit to let the stablehand work. 

Twenty minutes later, Scotty walked out of the stables with a shire, an Ardennes, and his satchel a couple hundred dollars lighter. 

Now for the post office.

The teller looked utterly exhausted with every facet of his being, but still managed to plaster on a smile when Scotty approached. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?” 

Scotty suddenly realized that he had no idea what name to ask for. They had too many goddamn aliases, and the other half of their gang could’ve chosen any one of them. Fuck. 

“Sir?” 

The outlaw blinked. “Right, apologies. Also, apologies for what’s about to happen, but I’m here to gather any letters for myself and my brothers. So I have a list of names for you to check, if you don’t mind.” 

“That’s what I’m paid to do. What’re the names?” 

“Hoagie McIntosh, Arthur Morgan, Aidan Summers.” 

The teller raised an eyebrow at him but went to check. “You said you was brothers?” 

“Not familial brothers. Blood of the covenant is thicker than water, and all that.”

“Well, I don’t see any letters for those particular brothers of your covenant. Any other names you want me to check?” 

It was a longshot, but, “Harrison Ferguson?”

“Nope.” 

Scotty was growing desperate. “Bill Terron?” A name he never used, never had to use.

“Sorry, sir. Nothing.” The teller was growing impatient. 

Scotty racked his brain over and over, desperately wondering what alias they might’ve chosen. It would have to be one of the ones they never used, right? That’d make sense. Maybe one of the stupider names, the ones no other person would have, ones that no one would ever think to ask for. 

“Last one - Herbert Dinkle.” 

The teller rolled his eyes, checked, returned with - “One letter for Herbert Dinkle. An unfortunate name, if I do say so myself.” 

Words couldn’t describe the pure relief that flooded Scotty’s heart when he saw the envelope. “Yes, well, he didn’t pick it.” Scotty snatched the letter and threw a few bills onto the counter. “Have a good day.” 

Racing out the post office, he ran back to the horses. He pocketed the letter, unhitched his horses, went to mount up -

“Excuse me, sir?” 

Scotty whipped around and found himself face to face with some young man, more boy than man, wearing an ill-fitted suit and holding a journal in one hand with a pen in the other. “Did I hear you say the name Hoagie McIntosh?” 

Scotty froze, face blank and heart pounding. “What’s it to you?” 

“That’s a surname, am I right? Of Tyler Wine?” 

The outlaw stepped forward, and was surprised when the boy didn’t step back. “Who are you?” 

“I’m a writer-” 

“Bullshit!” Scotty latched onto the boy, grabbing a fistful of suit and dropping a hand to hover over his holstered knife. “Who  _ are _ you!” 

“M-my name is Ricardo Lopez, and I swear I’m a writer! A novelist, if you will, I’m writing a dime novel about Tyler Wine, that’s all! I promise!” 

“Why?” Scotty jostled the boy. “Why do you care about that man?” 

“He’s a notorious outlaw! He’s managed to accrue one of the largest bounties this country has ever seen, not to mention evading the law after all this time, that’s all. People love dime novels about gunslingers, why not one about Tyler Wine?” 

Scotty rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, looked the boy in the eyes. “Do yourself a favor, and drop the book. Don’t keep writin’, don’t even think about Tyler Wine ever again. You’ll live longer.” He shoved the boy back, hard enough to send him sprawling onto the ground. “I mean it. Keep his name outta your mouth.” 

He mounted his horse, leaving the shocked boy behind. He couldn’t go as fast he would like - leading a horse was tricky when you were going at a full sprint. For the entire ride, Scotty kept checking behind him, watching for even the smallest hint that he might be followed. 

He saw nothing, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility. 

When he arrived at camp, he didn’t bother getting down from the horse. “We have to go!” He shouted, startling the other three outlaws into standing up. “We need to get out of here.”  
“What the fuck happened?” Jonathan immediately kicked the fire they’d had going out, piling dirt over it to smother it. 

“I’ll explain on the way, but we need to go  _ now _ .” 

Jonathan and Evan headed over to where the stolen horses had been grazing, leaving Tyler to take the shire Scotty had bought. He mounted easily, as expected, patting the beast as it shuffled around under his weight. 

“Where to?” Evan asked as he urged his horse closer to them, followed closely by Jon. 

Scotty led them away, away from their pathetic little camp, away from Valentine and the ghosts it bore, away from -

“What happened back there? Were there Pinkertons?” Evan asked, loudly enough to be heard over the thundering hooves, quiet enough for others around - though there were none, for now - to ignore. 

Scotty shook his head, suddenly feeling foolish. Then he berated himself for feeling stupid; his concern was justified. Anyone asking Tyler Wine was bad news, no matter for what reason. “There was a boy, uh, Ricardo Lopez. Recognized Tyler’s alias, asked if I knew him.” 

Tyler’s hands tightened around the reins, his entire body tensing. The shire beneath him sensed this, and nickered. “I don’t know that name.” 

“He said he was a dime novelist. Said he was writin’ about you.” 

“Really?” He perked up at that. He knew he was infamous among outlaws, but among  _ civilized  _ people? 

Evan saw this, and rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. People love a tragic story where the law prevails and the criminal gets hanged.” 

“Or they love an adventure, where they get to come along with the most daring outlaw ever to grace this country.” 

“For fuck’s sake, did you get a damn letter?” Jonathan snapped. 

Scotty smacked himself. “Oh my God, yeah!” He’d forgotten in his panic. He dug through his pockets, accidentally pulling out both the letter and the bounty poster. He shoved the poster back, handing over the letter as he did. 

Jon trusted the horse to follow, and tore open the envelope. His eyes scoured the words, drinking them in with the desperation of a man who’d gone without water for days. 

As he read the letter, Evan tried to read him. Tried to figure out his emotions. All he could really see was relief, which was enough for him. 

“What’s it say?” Tyler demanded, hand outstretched, fingers curling and uncurling. 

Jonathan read it once more before finally relinquishing it. 

Tyler read it just as quickly, just as desperately. He smiled, before it quickly melted into a frown. He looked up from the letter, meeting Evan and Scotty’s eyes. “We need to head to Annesburg  _ now _ .” 

“What does it say?” Evan asked, much calmer than the frantic energy currently radiating from his lover. 

“They’re at Beaver Hollow, they’re at the camp, but they’re leaving soon. They said they’d wait two weeks, we only have a few days, we need to hurry.” 

“We’ll go as fast as we can, but even if we push the horses, we’re a day or two out-” 

“Then we push the fucking horses!” Tyler’s manic gaze fell onto the road, destination set in his mind and determination in his heart. 

They would make it to Annesburg in time. They would reunite with the other half of their gang, and then they would all leave for the west. For freedom. 

The light was at the end of the tunnel. Tyler could feel its warmth on his skin. 


	39. reunited and it feels so good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler, Jonathan, Scotty and Evan finally make it back to camp. A new dawn is overlooking the gang, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who ain't dead yet, y'all. It me. College makes it difficult to have any energy for writing, so updates will be few and far between. I will finish this story, however, even if it's the last damn thing I do. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

It was Kelly’s turn to keep watch. As she took over for Brian, she did her best to swallow down a pang of jealousy of him for being able to sit down with his family and get some rest. 

She was exhausted. It felt as if she hadn’t stopped moving for a single second in the last two weeks. Even her sleep was fitful, waking her every couple hours with another worry that she could do nothing about. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so shitty. 

Keeping her eyes open continued to be a daunting task as she walked the perimeter of their camp. She kept her rifle in hand, though she hadn’t had reason to use it yet. There had been no more encounters with the Murfree Brood in the woods, for which she was grateful. 

She was looking forward to a calm few hours, and then collapsing onto her bedroll when the sun set. 

So of course, there had to be movement in the treeline. Goddamn intruders had to show up when it was her turn to be on watch. 

Kelly was instantly alert, raising her rifle at the blur. She listened closely and felt her heart plummet into her throat.

Multiple people were closing in on their camp. Too many for just her to take care of. 

“Brian! Chrissy! Get your guns!” Kelly raced to the only entrance into their camp, ready to meet the intruders head on. They wouldn’t get far if she could fucking help it. “Lauren, take Charlotte into the caves!”

Kelly aimed down her sights and fired. Not close enough to hit, but enough to warn. She hit a tree right as the riders passed it, startling one of the horses into nearly bucking its rider off.

“Leave or die!” She shouted at them. 

“Hold your fire, for fuck’s sake!” 

Kelly froze. “Tyler?” 

Brian ran up next to her, shotgun in hand. She held her arm out to stop him, gaze firmly stuck on the silhouettes that were growing clearer by the second. 

Then the four riders burst through the trees. They were home.

Tyler hardly let his horse stop before he jumped down, greeting Brian and Kelly with a wide embrace. 

Evan and Jon came up behind him, Scotty bringing up the rear. 

Everyone in camp rushed over when they saw the commotion. 

Chrissy crushed Scotty into a hug, tears streaming down both their faces as they were reunited.

Simone checked Evan over for injuries, going full mother-hen on him when she saw his bandaged shoulder. He’d never been so willingly fretted over.

Lui gave Jonathan a friendly punch to the shoulder, then a hug to make up for it.

Brian brought Tyler up to speed, Lauren fussed about the Murfree Brood in the forest, Brock had to break the news that their old horses were seized by the law back in Saint Denis. 

A frenzy of relief had spread over the gang of outlaws; relief that they were together again, that it wasn’t over yet. They were still strong. 

At least, they were until Aliyah stepped forward. She clutched a handkerchief to her chest, already wet with tears that hadn’t stopped falling. “Where’s Nogla?” She asked so quietly she nearly went unheard. 

Tyler stopped himself mid-sentence, his joy crumbling under the weight of what had happened. He hadn’t managed to forget, per se, who they lost along the way. He just hadn’t thought about it. He couldn’t  _ afford _ to think about it. 

But now, with Aliyah standing there, crying before she even knew why she should be, Tyler was faced with such guilt that made him want to turn tail and sprint away. 

“Where is he, Tyler Wine?” She asked again, voice trembling more than her hands. “Where’s Nogla?” 

Tyler forced himself to meet her eyes. “He… he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”

She nodded. She didn’t know how, but somewhere deep inside her, she knew that he wouldn’t walk out of Saint Denis alive. She never should have let him go. “How’d it happen?” 

“He sacrificed himself so we could get out,” Scotty told her in the most gentle tone he could manage. He rummaged through his bag, taking out the wrinkled bounty poster. “It’s no photograph, but I reckon you should have it.” He went to hand it to her, but she just looked at it. 

Aliyah tore her eyes away from it, away from the drawing of the man that had stolen her heart. She looked to Tyler, who seemed more pitiful than she did in the moment. “I’m leavin’,” She announced, more to her surprise than anyone else’s. She didn’t mean to say that, but once the words were out, it felt like her only option. She’d rejoin society, make an honest living. She did it once, she could do it again. 

For his part, Tyler just nodded. “I understand.” 

“And Ohm?” Smitty asked, noticing his absence as well. 

Jonathan tried to tell him, but the words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit in front of all these people. 

“Dead too,” Evan answered for him. 

“And Anthony and Lanai,” Kelly muttered, kicking her boot into the dirt. “ _ Fuck _ .”

Desperate to wash away the solemn mood, Tyler straightened up. “It wasn’t for nothing. We have enough money, we have more than enough. We’re moving west, and we’re going to put all of this behind us.” 

“You mean it this time?” Brian asked, sounding more than a little suspicious.

“I do. Our take, it’s more than we’ve ever made. And I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to do it, I’ve got some base ideas to work through but I think - no, I  _ know _ we can do it. We can start anew by the end of the year, I promise you all. We’ll make their deaths mean something.” 

Unnoticed by everyone but Tyler, Aliyah slipped away to her tent. He’d leave her alone for now, she needed the time to grieve. 

“You can start planning tomorrow,” Simone said decisively. “I can only imagine how you boys have been pushing yourselves these last few days.” 

“Your horses too,” Brock added, glancing over to where the tired beasts were currently grazing away at the edge of camp. “They look exhausted, poor things.” 

Simone gestured to the horses, “Brock, hon, you take care of them. Evan, come with me to my tent, I’ll be taking a look at your shoulder.” 

Jonathan grinned. “You doubt me and my skills, Miss Olivia?” 

“I have seen your stitchwork, Mister Dennis. I don’t doubt, I know. And actually, will you come with us too?”

“What for?” He turned at Evan, who just shrugged at him. 

Simone rolled her eyes, then grabbed both their arms and started dragging them away. 

The rest of camp lingered, still looking at Tyler for guidance. 

He blinked at the sudden attention. “Well, go on. Go about your day.” 

The outlaws he’d come to call his family slowly scattered, doing their best to continue on with their lives as if the whole of their future hadn’t changed completely within the last ten minutes. 

Tyler took that opportunity to go after Aliyah, who’d managed to gather her belongings already. She didn’t have much to her name, mostly out of necessity. Moving around as much as she had made it difficult to carry more than what she needed. 

She was loading the saddlebags of her horse when he approached her. 

“You won’t stop me,” She warned him, not looking up from her task. 

“Nor would I want to, this isn’t a prison.” He dug through his satchel for a stack of bills, roughly one hundred dollars from the look of it. He held it out to her, waiting for her to turn around. 

After a tense moment, she did. She opened her mouth to say something, saw the money, and quickly closed it. “What’s that for?” 

“Ensuring you’re comfortable until you get your feet under you in your new life.”

Aliyah knew better than to argue with him, so she grabbed the money, stuffing it into the bottom of her saddlebag. That money had Nogla’s blood on it, and - though she was loath to admit it - she’d need it. “Thank you,” She said tersely. 

“I truly am sorry. He was a great man.” 

“He was a bastard who didn’t know when to stop,” She snapped. “He was too good for all of us.” 

“That he was. Be safe, Aliyah. I know you won’t have use for us anymore, but you always have a spot among us. You’re always welcome.” 

“Thanks.” 

He left her be. 

Aliyah took one last look at the gang as they fluttered about. She had only been with them for a short while, but she’d come to love it. She’d come to love Nogla.

Look how well that turned out for her. 

With a broken sob, she heaved herself onto her horse, a stallion that Nogla had helped her pick out. She didn’t look back as she spurred him into a sprint. 

All she left behind were the tears that fell. 

“Wait here.” 

Simone deposited the boys at the entrance to her tent while she went in, lifting the canvas sheet up and tying it open. “Hello, little feller. Look who’s here!” She said to something on the ground. 

Her furniture was piled up across her tent, with chests and crates creating a closed pen of sorts around her bed. The creature contained within it began yapping excitedly, reaching up to try and climb over the wall. 

She used her foot to nudge a chest to the side, creating an opening through a small mass of white barreled out from and immediately started attacking Jonathan’s legs.

“Tiny!” He picked up the overexcited pup and cradled him to his chest, letting the dog lick his face all over. 

Evan couldn’t help but to smile; his heart felt like it was about to burst, watching his love embrace Tiny the dog. If a stray tear fell from his eye, he blamed it on the exhaustion of the last few days. 

Simone quietly brought Evan over to her table, letting Jon have his moment. She brought out her medical supplies and began examining his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” She whispered. 

Jonathan had dropped to the ground, playing gently with Tiny as he ran circles around the outlaw. 

Evan nodded to her. “Me too. Ohm was a good guy. Jon doesn’t… I don’t think he’s really acknowledged it, you know?” 

Simone could understand. “He needs time. We all do.” 

“If Tyler’s telling the truth, then soon, we’ll all have nothing  _ but _ time.” 

“We can only hope. Your shoulder’s doing well, not infected and it’s healing.”

“It better be. If it had ended up like the one Blevins did in, I don’t know what I would do.” Evan hated that his shoulder still goddamn hurt to this day from all that bullshit. A pain he’d have to deal with the rest of his life, more likely than not. 

Simone huffed. “Don’t remind me about that awful time.” She put away her supplies while Evan stood up. 

“Why don’t you boys go relax by the fire? Lauren’ll have dinner goin’ here soon, I bet.” 

Jonathan gathered Tiny in his arms as he stood. His smile had faded completely, face as empty as his gaze was. 

Evan looped an arm around Jon’s shoulders, guiding him slowly out of Simone’s tent. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asked once they were out of earshot from anyone else. 

Jonathan just shrugged, almost helplessly. “I guess I have a dog.” 

“‘Least it ain’t a kid, right?” 

“Right.” 

Evan bit his lip, regretting his joke. “You know we’re here for you. Me, and Ty, and everyone else.” 

“I know.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Later that night, everyone gathered around the campfire for dinner. It wasn’t usually like this - more often than not, people would be out and about the nearest town, or on other jobs that had them away from camp. 

It was rare for the whole family to share a meal together. 

It was nice. 

The mood was light enough for stories to be told; stories of the past, hopes for the future, discussions of what was the better way to rob a drunkard. The rest of the world didn’t exist for that moment; it was just a bunch of outlaws sitting around a fire. 

“I ever tell y’all about the time Nogla got arrested for trying to rob me?” Brian asked, eyes wandering the group. “He certainly wouldn't have, but it was goddamn hilarious. Bastard thought it’d be too funny to pull one over on me, so he tried to take my gun out of my holster. Thing is, some lawman, a young boy who couldn’t have been in his twenties, saw it and arrested him on the spot. I was busy gettin’ pissed, so I didn’t notice until that night when it was time to leave. The sheriff wouldn’t even let me pay his bail, said that he needed to learn his lesson. Nogla stayed in that jail for three days, I think.” 

“I remember that!” Chrissy said, bringing her hand up to cover her smile. “He was so upset that he didn’t leave camp for a straight week after that. Kept sayin’ that you’d left him there and he’d never talk to you again.” 

“And after that week, I was the first one that bastard asked to go rob a stagecoach with!” 

“He stabbed me one time,” Evan said, mostly out of surprise. He’d forgotten that it had happened, for some reason the memory came back to him in that single moment. “He got it in his head that he was some kind of master at throwing knives.” 

“Didn’t he stab you in the leg?” Tyler asked. 

Simone’s jaw dropped. “That was Nogla? You told me you ran into some Blevins’ boys! If I had known it was him, I would’ve tanned his hide for that.” 

Evan could only shrug. “He got me thinkin’ that I could just stand up against a tree with an apple on my head and he’d stab the apple, no problem. Then when he stabbed me instead, he had the gall to go and say ‘Well, you shouldn’t have wiggled around so much!’.” 

“How do you even fuck up that bad?” Tyler could barely get his question out in between fits of laughter. 

“I think he sneezed? I think he started to sneeze when he threw the knife,” Evan told him, smiling at the face Nogla had made when he did. Evan couldn’t even be mad that he got a blade to his thigh because of it all. “Still my fault, though, am I right? He sneezed but I shouldn’t have  _ wiggled _ .” 

It’d been so long since laughter was the main sound of their camp. For months on end, Evan would walk into camp and hear arguments, fights, squabbles, or just tense silence. He longed for the days when conversations would be fun to have, not troublesome to think about. 

In this single moment, Evan was at peace. 

So of course, it couldn’t last.

The laughter died away, floating away into the night’s chill. In its place, grief began to settle.

Joyous memories of Nogla and his antics turned sour. Thinking of Nogla led to thoughts of Ohm, of Lanai, of Anthony. 

Of Genay. Of those they lost along the way. Of how lost they themselves had become, straying further and further from where they were meant to be. 

Simone was the first to gather the courage and break the silence. “We should hold a funeral for them all.” 

“We will,” Tyler promised her, promised all of them. He straightened up and raised his drink to the sky. “We’re not done yet, y’all hear me? We got a lot more to give this world. We’ve lost folk along the way, but we’re not gonna let their deaths mean nothing.” 

“We’ll do right by ‘em all,” Brian stood up with his own drink held up. 

One by one, every criminal by the fire raised a drink in cheers. Cheers to the memories of the ones that had passed on, and cheers to the dream that was so damn close to being their reality.

That night, Evan dreamed of the warmth of the western sun overlooking miles of land that he got to call his own. 


	40. unconventional means to decide a conventional future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finally tackles the big question: what the hell do we next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed this chapter around like four times because I wasn't happy with it. I'm still not super pleased with how it turned out, but I'm sick of looking at it and I wanna move on to the rest of the story. I'm excited for the ending, I think it's gonna be fun. I hope y'all like it too, we just gotta get there now.

The next morning, Evan awoke with a severe ache in both his head and his shoulder. He drank too much last night, because of course he did, and he was certainly paying for it now. He tried to open his eyes and immediately regretted it; the sunlight only incensed the pounding headache.

Swearing to never drink again, Evan let out a groan and slumped back onto the cot. Only then did he notice that he was completely alone, the other sides of the cot having gone cold hours ago. 

He was displeased with this information. He’d been looking forward to finally having a peaceful damn morning with his idiotic lovers, but apparently not. He wouldn’t even be able to have a nice morning to himself - he could hear shouting, from multiple people, coming from somewhere within the camp. If he focused hard enough, he could probably figure out who was yelling at who. His brain disagreed with the notion of focusing right now, so he abandoned that quickly. 

After taking a moment to psych himself up, Evan finally rolled out of bed. Well, to the edge of the bed, where he stayed for a moment and tried his best not to throw up when the sudden movement violated his stomach. 

Then his nausea passed, and Evan was up and moving. Dressed in clean clothes, drank some water to settle his stomach, debated smoking a cigarette to alleviate his headache, eventually deciding against it and leaving. 

He lifted the tent canvas aside, and saw where the commotion had been coming from. 

One of the larger tables had been dragged into the center of camp, and around it stood the gang.

They were all talking over each other, some shouting, others whispering, but there was not a single person standing silent at that table. 

Evan admired it for a second with a small grin. This was his family, as dysfunctional and snappish as it could be. Then Kelly’s shrill shouting triggered a flare of pain behind his eyes, and he knew that if he dared enter the congregation, his headache and mood would only worsen. 

So he waited for Tyler’s sweeping gaze to finally land on him, and waved in greeting. 

Tyler nodded, gave a lop-sided smile, and gestured to the table, presumably laden with papers scribbled over in half-formed plans. 

Evan shook his head, mimed punching himself in the temple, and ducked back into the tent to lay down on the bed once more. 

His shoulder still ached, along with his whole body. He’d been through a lot in the past few days, and needed rest. 

For once, he was willing to just lay down and do nothing, instead of forever running himself into the ground. He felt that he had earned the right. 

He’d only been laying down for a few minutes before someone approached him, none too quietly. 

Evan withheld a sigh, and waited. 

“You alive in there, dear?” Came the soothing timbre of Lauren’s voice. 

“Alive enough. Come in.” Evan sat up in bed, bemoaning the loss of any potential sleep and also happy to see Lauren. 

She had even come with baby Charlotte in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She entered the tent, offered the coffee, then took a seat on the chair next to the bed. 

“You’re a godsend,” Evan told her as he took an appreciative sip. 

Lauren waved him off with a smile. “I’m no such thing-” 

“Literally everyone would disagree.” 

“I see you’re in a good mood. Sleep well?” 

“Better than I have in a long time,” Evan admitted. “You?” 

“ Oh, I slept fine. A certain someone is still being a pain and not sleeping through the night, aren’t we?” She asked her baby, smiling widely and gently jostling her around. “Yes, we are!” 

“Can’t say I envy you for having to deal with that.” 

“At least I have my two boys to also deal with it. Suffering in solidarity, and all that.” 

Evan remembered how dopey Brian got when he was talking about Brock or Lauren, how awful lovestruck he was, and definitely wouldn’t call it suffering that he got to spend every minute of his day with them. Of course, Evan doubted he himself was any better when it came to Tyler or Jonathan. At least, on his good days. 

“They all planning the move?” He asked, jerking his head in the direction of their criminal congregation. 

Lauren tilted her head. “I would say so far it’s been more fighting than planning, but that’s the idea, the end goal.” 

“Brian?” 

“Amongst everyone else, but yeah. Both he and Tyler want this to go absolutely perfectly, but they have very different meanings of the word ‘perfect.’” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Brian wants to move the whole family at once while Tyler wants to move in groups. Neither of them is willing to back down, either.” 

Evan sighed. “They’ve been butting heads a lot more recently.” 

Lauren reached over, placing her hand on his knee. “Everyone’s just stressed, that’s all. Once we’re away from all of this, it’s going to be so fucking picturesque that this will feel like a fever dream.” 

Evan’s eyes widened, almost to a comical degree. 

She withdrew her hand with an innocent smile. “You alright, cowboy?” 

“You swore. You never swear. Especially not in front of Charlotte.” 

Lauren just shrugged and bounced her baby on her knee. “Swearing isn’t exclusive to men, you know.” 

“I never said it was, you just never do it!” 

“Maybe you just don’t pay attention.” 

“No, no, I do, you can’t-” 

“When you’re done with your coffee, I suggest you come join us all. Perhaps you can break the stalemate.” She stood with a flourish, leaving Evan alone to gape. 

Jonathan weighed the benefits of getting piss-drunk at roughly eleven in the morning. On the one hand, it would make Tyler and Brian’s constant screaming at each other fucking more tolerable. On the other hand, he should probably stay sober while they’re planning the rest of their lives out. 

Although there certainly wasn’t much planning going on. 

It was his idea to start a physical list of everything they needed to get done. So far - after a full hour of “planning” - the list read: 

  1. _ Find land_
  2. _ Buy land_
  3. _ Live on land_

It was shortly after writing that list that Brian posed an idea that Tyler didn’t like, and of course the two of them started bickering and then shouting with little disregard for the other eleven outlaws standing around them. 

Jonathan looked up from the pitiful list to see Evan finally leaving their tent; he perked up, hoping that the other man could help somehow. 

Lauren noticed his change of posture and looked over. She nodded when Evan joined them, and handed him baby Charlotte, claiming that she needed to go sit down. 

Not expecting to hold a baby right now, Evan fumbled with her for a bit before he got her properly settled against his hip. Jonathan came up on his other side and pressed against him, resting his head on his shoulder carefully. 

“Good mornin’, Sleepin’ Beauty,” he said softly. 

Evan huffed. “Mornin’.” 

Tyler, red in the face and damn near heaving, finally noticed the arrival of his lover. He waved at him while pointing to Brian, saying, “Ev, Evan, love of my life, tell this stupid prick that he’s fucking wrong-” 

“Don’t point at me, you piece of shite! Besides, you’re wrong, you’re gonna get us all killed!” Brian, equally pissed, slapped Tyler’s hand away. “Evan, don’t you dare take his side just because you share his bed.” 

“Brian, I’m going to fucking kill you-” 

“Woah now, hey now, all of you shut the fuck up!” Evan gently brandished baby Charlotte to get their attention on her; nothing worked like using an infant to distract grown men from screaming at each other. “Look at the cute baby, okay? Shut up, and look at the cute baby.”

“I put the bow in her hair today,” Brock told them, a small, proud grin replacing his previous scowl. 

“See? Brock put the bow in her hair today. Maybe we could all learn something from that.” 

Tyler blinked. “What the hell could we possibly learn from that?” 

“Yeah, Evan, you getting baby fever or some shit?” 

“Brian, shut up. Tyler, shut up. Both of you need to just shut up, or we’re never getting out of here.” 

“This bastard-” 

“He won’t  _ listen _ -” 

“I don’t care!” Evan interjected, replacing baby Charlotte on his hip and turning his back to them. “You two are going to give everyone an aneurysm with your shouting.” He thought for a moment, coming up with a painfully short list of methods they could go about resolving this in a way that didn’t result in violence. 

When there was only one favorable method that came to his mind, Evan planted himself in between Brian and Tyler at the head of the table, glancing at both of them and then to the rest of the gang. “This is what’s gonna happen: you two will each present your arguments, nice and clear, for the rest of us. Then we’ll vote.” 

“The hell is this?” Tyler asked, brows furrowed and frustration rising once more. 

“Democracy, bitch,” Evan told him. “Brian, you go first.” 

Brian huffed and turned to face the rest of the outlaws all looking at him expectantly. “Fuckin’ fine. I think we should all leave together because it’d be much faster. We can all disappear at the same time and there’s safety in numbers.” 

“And all the while creating a target for any Pinkertons near us. Sitting ducks for them to gun down all at once,” Tyler argued. “We should leave in smaller groups to make it harder for them to follow us.” 

“So it takes that much longer to get the fuck out of here?” Brian slammed his hand down on the table. “Goddamnit, it’s east that’s the problem for us! Every goddamn agent knows we’re here, and they’re closing in. We need to get gone before they can finish what they’ve started.” 

“Okay!” Evan waved the hand that wasn’t carrying a baby to gather the attention back to him. “We’ve heard both sides, and now we’re going to vote. All in favor of Brian’s plan, raise your hand!” 

After a hesitant moment, it was only Jonathan, Chrissy, and Simone that raised their hands. 

Tyler shot Jon a light glare, while Brian looked at the Barrus’ in utter disbelief. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Lauren offered an apologetic shrug. “We just think it’s safer for us all to split up.” 

“Because that went so fucking well with Saint Denis?” 

It felt as though the temperature outside dropped ten degrees. Evan could  _ see _ Jonathan stiffen up, could feel the anger building at the implications.

Brian regretted the words immediately, evident in the way he brought his hands to scrub at his face. “‘M sorry,” He mumbled into his palms. “I didn’t mean that.” 

“Then don’t say it,” Evan said, trying his best to keep his voice steady. He handed baby Charlotte off to Brian, who took her and gently hugged her to his chest. Evan took the lead for now, taking place at the head of the table and gathering the blank towards himself. He began writing as he spoke, “So it’s settled, we leave in groups. How do we wanna split up?”

“I have something to posit, if I may?” Smitty suddenly stepped forward, John right behind him as always. 

“What is it?” 

“John and I were talking about this last night, we were thinking about what exactly would happen when we all arrive out west. Is there a destination?” 

“California,” Tyler answered him. 

“Right, yes. I reckon it would be difficult for us, if we all arrive at once and demand land to buy. I feel like a lot of people would attempt to rip us off, make us overpay for land that would hold no bearing for our future. We are going to work this land, yes?” 

“That’s the goal.” 

“Fuckin’ thieves to ranchers,” Brian muttered, earning himself an elbow to the side from Evan. 

“Well, John and I are offering to head out first and scope out our options. Ensure that we get the best deal, and make it less suspicious when a group of fifteen people shows up all at once asking for a spread of land.”

Tyler hummed, and Evan elbowed him as well. 

“Ow, what was that for?” 

“What’s there to think about, this is a smart idea!” 

“Their faces aren’t all over wanted posters, unlike the rest of us,” Chrissy pointed out. 

John nodded. “We could take a train because of that. That would give us plenty of time to search while the rest of you travel.” 

“Wait, are we all going by wagons?” Scotty asked. “That’ll take fucking months.” 

Tyler scoffed. “You wanna go hop on a train right now with every station swarming with Pinkertons? Be my guest.” 

“What if we go by wagon until we’re far enough to take a train?” Simone reasoned smoothly. “Past the mountains, well past Blackwater, and we should be fine.” 

“‘Should’ bein’ the key phrase.” 

“We’ll make do if it isn’t, we always do.” 

Evan nodded, scribbling all of this down as fast as he could. “I like this idea, it’s good. Anyone think otherwise, or is this what we’re gonna do?” 

When he was met with dead silence, he sighed with relief. They were finally getting somewhere, and it felt really good to have a plan in place, even with it in the beginning stages. “Alright, John and Smitty are to leave before the rest of us. How do we wanna split into groups?” 

“Randomly?” Lui offered. “Seems the most painless way. Write our names on slips of paper, put them in a bag, pull ‘em and see?” 

“We could have Tiny decide for us,” Jonathan said with a chuckle. “Have him run around and see who he goes to first.” 

To his surprise, his idea was met with nods and grins from damn near everyone. 

“Fuck it, let’s do that,” Evan decided. “Come on, everyone, let’s sit in a circle.” 

For the next half hour, that was how a crucial decision was made. Infamous thieves, liars, and murderers, all sitting in a circle and frantically beckoning a dog that was smaller than a boot. 

At first, Tiny was too excited with all of his choices - he spent a good few minutes just running laps around the circle, but not actually coming to anyone in particular. 

When he finally did pick someone, no one was surprised that it was Jonathan. 

From there, he went to Simone, then to Lui. 

“Groups of three people,” Tyler decided then, kneeling in the grass and vigorously patting the ground to get Tiny’s attention. 

Except Tiny skirted around him and went to Evan. Then Brock, then Chrissy.

The circle got smaller, and Tiny started to get tired, making small jumps to people. Kelly was chosen next, followed by Brian and Scotty. 

“Guess we’re a group,” Lauren said to Tyler with a smile, baby Charlotte in her lap giggling. 

“Us and your infant,” Tyler deadpanned. He wasn’t upset by that fact, he was more upset at the prospect of being separated from his lovers for an unknown period of time. 

Evan, seeming to sense this in his weirdly prophetic ways, stepped closer. “Thank you for being in the group with the baby. I love her very much, but I would not be able to deal with that. Thanks for taking one for the team.” 

“Yeah, you know Tyler,” Jonathan joined in, slinging his arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “A team player if ever there was one!” 

Lauren chuckled. “She might even sleep through the night a couple times, it’ll be great.” 

“I’m sure it will,” Tyler said with his biggest smile. 

Evan patted his back as he passed him to get to the table. “I’ll write down the groups, then we can get down the timeline of all this moving about.”

Lunchtime came and went, along with a break from the planning. Having grown tired from having to  _ think _ for so long, Evan decided he’d take a nap after he ate. 

He hadn’t taken a damn nap in so long, it was almost a foreign feeling, crawling into the cot in the middle of the day. He’d had to untie the tent walls, letting them fall and catching as much of the sunlight as the greyed fabric could. With his arm slung over his eyes to block the rest, Evan fell into a light sleep.

He was rudely awakened by someone shaking his leg. 

“Fuck off.” He kicked out, foot connecting with something soft. 

His assailant let out a grunt and backed away. “Damnit, Ev, wake up!” 

“What do you want, Brian?” He sat up with a heavy groan, glaring at the Irishman with all the heat he could muster while his brain was still half-asleep. “I was having a great dream.” 

“I’m sure you were, but that can wait. Do you have any dynamite stashed anywhere? I mean like,  _ anywhere _ . In this state, in three states over, is there any that we can easily get to?”

Evan drew the blanket up to his chest. “Why?” 

“I might need it.” 

“For what?” 

“Blowing stuff up, what else do you need dynamite for? Now, do you have any?” 

Evan’s first impulse was to say no, fuck off, leave his dynamite out of this. His second told him that if Brian said they needed it, they probably did. “I have maybe a couple bundles left, stashed near Valentine. Now I ask again, why?” 

“It’s a secret. Now come on, Smitty and John are leaving.” Brian slapped his foot before whisking himself out of the tent, calling over to someone as he went. 

With a groan, Evan peeled himself off his cot and went to rejoin the fray.

Everyone had moved to the edge of camp, where the horses were being kept. Two of them were saddled up, the rest grazing. 

Evan pushed his way into the group of the criminals until he got to the center. 

John was chatting away with Tyler, something about specific requirements for the land he wanted. Smitty lit up as soon as he saw Evan approach, reaching for him and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Oh, how I’ll miss you all,” Smitty told him, overdramatic as always. 

Evan patted his back, catching John’s smirk out the corner of his eye. “We’ll miss you too.” 

“Don’t dally for too long, and certainly don’t get killed before all your dreams can come true.” Finally releasing him, Smitty took a step back and gave a somber smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Evan could see the hesitation setting in, the regret of having to leave so soon, especially after they’ve all been together constantly for much longer than was normal. “Before the year is out, we’ll all be living the best lives we can live. I promise you that.” 

Smitty nodded as his eyes flicked to John. “I suppose we ought to get going.” 

“Be safe,” Evan stressed, helping Smitty up onto his horse. 

John followed suit, having received his own farewell from Tyler. Evan turned to him, gesturing with one hand to Smitty. “Take care of him, John. Keep out of trouble.” 

“This isn’t a goodbye, don’t treat it like one,” The younger outlaw said, weak smile keeping the sadness at bay for now. 

“We will see you all soon,” Smitty affirmed. 

Tyler stepped forward, placing a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Remember the town, Silent Reach. That’s our midpoint. Post letters along the way if you can, but if anything seems off, don’t risk it.” 

John nodded. “We’re not the ones with thousands of dollars’ worth of bounties on our heads.” 

“How lucky for you,” Evan deadpanned. “Still, be safe.” 

“We will. Farewell for now,” Smitty saluted them all, then with a heavy hand, snapped his reins. 

With John always by his side, the two of them left Beaver Hollow. Hopefully to never see it again. 

With the gang watching them be swallowed up by the forests, Smitty let himself pray for the first time in a long while. He’d never been an overly religious man, but he found comfort in the action now. He trusted in his horse’s ability to follow John and closed his eyes. Head bowed, hands clasped, he prayed to anyone who would listen. 

_ Don’t let this place be their undoing. Let them leave, let them make it to the west. Let us have this, and I’ll never ask another thing from you. _

John reached over, letting his hand rest on his lover’s knee. “You underestimate them,” He said softly, offering his most-reassuring smile. “They’re vermin, they’ll survive under any circumstances.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to ask for some extra help.”

“You’re always looking out for them,” John praised. He leaned back in his saddle, looking up to the sky, seemingly relaxed. “We’re almost there, love. Almost to the end.”

Smitty grinned, his lover’s own good mood proving to be contagious. “I can’t wait, my dear.”

The two of them rode on, heads held high and - for the first time in years - with high hopes for their future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter's hitting pretty hard for some people, so I hope that y'all are doing okay! Please be safe out there.


	41. the first to depart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan's group begins their journey west, to the land of opportunities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to finally kick my ass into gear to get this edited for y'all. It's a bit of a longer chapter than normal, which I think will be a recurring thing with this final stretch. I have a rough picture of how many chapters are left, it's just a matter of finding the time to write them. 
> 
> We're almost there, people. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The next day, Evan awoke sandwiched between his lovers. He didn’t know where he ended and Tyler or Jon began, and he wished he could stay like this forever. 

He settled further into the bedding to savor the hell out of this moment. It would be the last one like it for quite some time, and that fact made his stomach curl in on itself. It was for a good reason, and the reunion they would have would be something to remember for the rest of their lives, but he still detested the idea of not seeing either of his lovers for months on end. 

“You’re thinkin’ too loud,” Jonathan murmured into Evan’s side.

Evan just shushed him, held him tighter to his chest. With Tyler pressed to his back, it was utter perfection. Even with someone’s elbow being pushed too far into his ribs, and someone else’s cold feet pressed against his calves. It was his own slice of heaven on Earth, one he was happy to surrender to as sleep took him once more. 

“Evan, wake up!” 

Chrissy’s demanding voice was the very last thing he wanted to hear right now, but there it was, calling out from just beyond his tent, “We’ve gotta get going soon, come on.” 

“Alright, alright, give me a damn minute,” He called back to her, uncaring if he woke his lovers. If he couldn't sleep any longer, neither could they. 

“You’ve got ten minutes before I come in there myself.” She warned him before finally walking away.

Evan rolled his eyes and settled back down. 

“You probably should get up,” Tyler said, though he made no such movements on his part.

Jonathan at least rolled onto his stomach, looking up at Evan with half-closed eyes. “You don’t wanna keep her waitin’,'' His words were slurred with sleep, making them almost indiscernible. 

“I wanna get up even less,” Evan admitted. “Gettin’ up means I have to leave.” 

“I don’t want you to go either.” Tyler curled himself tighter around him as if to prove his point. “But you have to.” 

Evan took a breath to psych himself up, and shoved with all his might. 

Tyler let out a high-pitched yelp as he was pushed off the edge of the bed. He landed on his back with a heavy grunt, immediately shooting back up to glare at Evan. “What the fuck?” He demanded, voice an octave higher than it had been a second ago.

“Oh no, what happened?” Evan asked, blinking innocently and offering a hand to help. “You better watch out, love, gravity can be tricky sometimes.” 

Tyler looked at him, then at his hand, and took it with a smile - only to yank as hard as he could, sending Evan careening over the edge of the cot and right on top of him. 

“Better watch out,” Tyler mocked him, pitching his voice impossibly higher to do so. “Gravity’s a bitch.” 

“Just like you.” Evan raised himself up long enough to press a kiss to Tyler’s forehead before dragging himself into a stand. He stretched, then bent over to give Jon a kiss too. “Good morning, fools.” 

“Y’all are the ones actin’ like fools,” Jonathan told him. He waited a moment before getting up as well, and they all fell into their easy rhythm of preparing for the day. 

As he laced his boots, Evan took a moment to just look at the two men he got to call his lovers. He admired the way Tyler helped Jon decide what shirt he wanted to wear, while Jonathan made sure the other’s suspenders were even. 

Eventually, Jon caught him staring, and gave him a grin. “Your pants are undone.” 

Sure enough, they were. Evan hastily buttoned them, ignoring both the snickers coming from the other side of the tent and the way his ears burned. 

Just in time, too, for Chrissy chose that moment to barge into their tent. “You better be dressed- you are, great. Brock’s struggling to pack some of your stuff, and I don’t know what the fuck you have going on with your boxes. Go help him, would you?” 

“Only if you-” 

“I’ll bring you coffee, sure. Just go help him before he starts ripping his hair out, ‘kay?” 

Evan saluted her, to which she nodded and left. 

Jonathan looked after her, eyebrow cocked. “What’s she mean, what’re you trying to bring?” 

“You’ll see.” Evan bent back down to ensure his boots were laced, then made to the exit of the tent. “By the way, everyone’s gonna be havin’ to go dry for a while.” He ducked into the morning sun, breathing in the scent of nature. 

Jonathan quickly followed, tripping over himself in his haste. “What, what do you mean, dry, like as in not wet, or dry as in no drinking, because those are important distinctions to make.”

“I had to commandeer our booze, I’m taking it with me.” 

“ _ All  _ of it? The hell do you need it for?” 

Brock saw them approaching and gave up trying to pack their wagon. “Evan, man, really? What is this?” 

Evan grinned and gestured broadly. “This, my dear friend, is the entire camp’s stash of liquor! I left some beer for y’all, we can’t use that for our purposes.” 

Jonathan peered into the wagon and saw the evidence before him: three crates, stuffed to the brim with every bottle of liquor the gang had to its name. It was pretty damning if he were being honest with himself. He hadn’t known they had that much booze on them. Still- 

“You’re really gonna take all of it?” He asked, reaching forward to try and snag a bottle.

Evan smacked his hand away and stepped in front of him, blocking him from the wagon entirely. “Yes, we need all of it. I’m not telling you what for, just know that it won’t be going to waste.” 

“We aren’t drinking this on the road, are we?” Brock asked. 

“No,” Evan said, mostly to Jon. Then he looked to Brock and nodded. “Anyways, let me help you store it properly.”

“I’m gonna tell Tyler,” Jonathan warned them, hands planted on his hips. “I’m gonna tell him and he’s gonna tell you that you can’t leave us without any!” 

“Please do, dear,” Evan heaved as he pushed one of Chrissy’s trunks into the wagon, using it as a sort of barrier to keep the booze further in so it wouldn’t slide out. “Please go tell him my nefarious plans.” 

Jonathan huffed and stalked back to the tent, muttering something about the day of his death is the day he goes full sober.

“He’ll get over it,” Evan muttered to Brock’s unasked question. “Christ alive, why does Chrissy have so much shit?” 

“Because I need it,” The woman told him firmly, cup of promised coffee held in her hand. “And if you damage any of it, so help me I will pour this down your front.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Please don’t pour my coffee anywhere.” 

Evan started loading Brock’s things onto the wagon, significantly less in quantity than Chrissy’s. Brock started helping him again, while Chrissy just stood there. When Evan gave her a pointed look, she merely pointed to the cup in her hand. 

“This is going to be a long trip,” Evan said with no real malice in his voice. When his stuff was finally on the wagon, along with provisions and their weapons and everything else they could possibly need, he finally got to drink his coffee. 

“But everything will be worth it,” Chrissy told him, slinging her arm over his shoulders despite their height difference. “The light’s at the end of the tunnel, brother.” 

“We can only hope. C’mon, let’s go get our goodbyes over with.” 

“Dollar says you’ll cry first.” 

“We both know Brock’ll cry before the rest of us.” 

“No, I won’t!” 

“You already are,” Evan pointed out, feeling similar himself but ignoring it for now. 

Brock sniffed and wiped at his eyes one more time. “It’s just all the dust from your guys’ stuff got in my eyes. That’s all.” 

Then Lauren came over with their baby, and those tears in Brock’s eyes definitely started falling. 

Evan and Chrissy shared a knowing glance, then joined the rest of the congregating outlaws. 

As expected, the goodbyes were the most painful with the people Evan loved most. Jonathan went in for a hug, and wouldn’t let go. Tyler stood on the edge, doing his best to look stoic as ever. 

Evan returned Jon’s embrace, unbothered of how much it felt like his ribs were being crushed and how his shoulder protested. “I’ll be back before you know it,” He said, keeping his voice low. “You won’t even have time to miss me.” 

“You better come back to me.” 

“Oh, I will. You can’t get rid of me.” 

Jonathan huffed, somehow tightening his hold even further. “Don’t fucking leave me.” 

Evan’s heart broke a little, hearing the raw pain in his lover’s voice. The pain of the last few months coalescing into this moment, where he has to leave for far too long. He broke away from the hug long to get Jonathan to look at him, to truly look him in the eyes. “I promise you I never will. This isn’t permanent, you hear me?” 

“Sure fuckin’ feels like it,” Jonathan murmured, reaching a hand up to rest against Evan’s cheek. 

“Well, it isn’t.” Evan placed a chaste kiss on his lover’s forehead, trying his best to impart all of his love in a single gesture. 

Jonathan nodded, pulled away. Rubbed at his eyes and let Tyler sweep in for his own moment. 

It was another bear hug, with less pressure but all the same feelings. 

Tyler pressed a kiss to the crown of Evan’s head, rubbing his back and swaying gently. 

Evan swallowed against a lump in his throat and closed his eyes. “Don’t you dare die on me before we can make this whole thing happen for us.” 

Tyler managed a choked laugh. “As long as you don’t either.”

“I’m serious. Don’t be a hero, don’t be a martyr. Just be Tyler Wine, and make it through to the other end.” 

“I will. I swear. You do the same, yeah?” 

“Shut up, you oaf. You know I will.” 

Chrissy and Kelly watched as Evan left his tent, Jonathan and Tyler in tow, all of them looking equally depressed. 

“Make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself, would ya’?” Kelly asked, resting her head on Chrissy’s shoulder. “I’d hate for all this to be a waste.”

“That’s kinda fucked up, isn’t it? That our whole future - it’s Evan’s doing. He’s the reason we’re getting out of this life, he’s the reason we won’t end up dead in a ditch with Pinkerton bullets in our hearts. Shit.” 

“He’s the one holding all of us together, and he’s been doing it silently the whole fuckin’ time,” Kelly realized aloud.

Chrissy let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the weight of the world sinking onto her shoulders. "Brock and I are gonna keep him alive if that’s the last thing we do.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” Brock bounced his child around on his hip, letting his tears fall with wild abandon, already hating every single second that he’ll be apart from her. “But Daddy’s gonna come back, yeah? We’ll be apart for a while, but I’ll be back and we’ll be living the dream and we’ll never want for nothing.” He turned to his wife, concern edging through his despair. “What if she forgets about me? What if she thinks  _ Tyler _ is her father?” 

Lauren just shook her head, shoving down her own sadness and doing her best to appear calm for her family. “She won’t forget you, dear. I’ll remind her every second of every day. I’ll show her the photograph of you, and I’ll tell her about you, and I’ll tell her about the home we’re going to build from the bottom up just for us, for our family.” 

Charlotte babbled her infant nonsense, chubby hands trying to grab for them both to pull them close. Lauren pressed in, holding both her daughter and her husband. 

“I’m so proud of you,” She says, giving Brock a kiss on his cheek. “I’m so proud of how you’ve grown, of the man you’ve become. I love you so much.” 

If Brock wasn’t already crying, he sure as hell would be now. “I love you too,” He said, voice cracking as his sadness made itself home in his chest. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Chrissy offered to drive first. She took the bench, while Evan and Brock were in the back of the wagon. 

They all watched the camp disappear behind them, swallowed up by the forest. Evan looked until he couldn’t see a single glimpse of anyone, then began his task. 

“What’re you doing?” Brock asked, wiping his eyes for the thousandth time. 

“Fire bottles,” Evan said, bringing out his knife and the spare bed sheet that would soon be scraps. “Chrissy, set a course for Cornwall Kerosene and Tar.” 

“I would if I knew what the fuck that is. So what the fuck is it and why is Cornwall’s name on it?”

“It’s one of his oil refineries, close to Valentine. We’re going to light it the hell up, and then we’ll be gone with the wind.” 

“That’s your big plan?” 

“You got another, Chrissy?” 

She was silent for a moment. Then, “No.” 

“Exactly. Brock, start helping me with these. With any luck, we’ll finish them by tonight and have ‘em ready for tomorrow.” 

Chrissy shot a look over her shoulder. “Just how fast do you expect me to be going?” 

Evan shrugged. “As fast as you’re comfortable with, but I would feel better if we get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.” 

“Me too. Hold on, boys, I ain’t taking this easy.”

“Just please don’t break the wagon,” Brock cried out as she snapped the reins.

They entered the Heartlands by that evening, having reached the last of the valleys left by the mountains before they became canyons and ridges.

Chrissy drove off the road for another hour or so until she deemed them sufficiently safe to make camp for the night. 

Evan began the process of building a fire right by the wagon, only to be stopped by Chrissy kicking dirt over his meager flame. 

“Dude, there’s literally gallons of alcohol right next to you. Maybe don’t build right next to it?” 

Evan managed to suppress a roll of his eyes. “I knew that.” He had totally forgotten. He moved a couple feet away, closer to where Brock was stretching his body after hours on the road. He built another fire, a smaller one that would suffice for little more than keeping them somewhat warm against the night’s chill. 

Brock finished his stretches and began rummaging through the wagon for their supper. Chrissy eyed him, then eyed their surroundings. She could see some deer in the distance, and some little fuzzy things that were probably rabbits. 

“I can go hunting,” She offered. “Kelly gave me one of her bows.” 

“I’d appreciate that.” 

Chrissy nodded, and got her stuff together. “See y’all soon,” She said before wandering down the hill they were camped on. 

Evan watched her go for a little bit before standing himself. “I’m gonna gather some firewood. You good to stay here?” 

Brock waved him off. “I don’t need a guardian, but your concern is touching.” 

“Guns are in the side bags, just so you know. Unloaded, but ammunitions’ stored with them.” 

“Understood.” 

Less than an hour later saw Evan and Chrissy returning around the same time; the former with armfuls of fallen logs he’d gotten from the stream nearby, and the latter with two rabbits that she’d already taken the liberty of skinning and cleaning.

“Dinner is served,” Chrissy said triumphantly, handing the rabbits to Brock, who took them with a deadpan look. 

“Dinner still needs to be  _ cooked. _ ” 

“‘Thank you, Chrissy, for finding us food even after you drove the damn wagon all day.’ Oh, you’re welcome, Brock and Evan, it was no problem at all, I’m so glad to break my back for y’all and receive very little in return.” She plopped herself down on the ground next to where Evan was rebuilding the fire, adding some of his newfound sticks to the embers. 

“Thank you, Chrissy,” Brock said, bowing ever so slightly and oh so sarcastically.

Evan searched his stash, eventually picking out two good sticks. “Here, to spit ‘em.” 

“Thanks.” 

The rabbits were cooking over the fire in no time, along with some potatoes that had been thrown in close to the flames. 

“Probably won’t be as good as Lauren’s,” Brock said with a hint of apology. “But it’s food.” 

“I miss camp already,” Chrissy admitted, leaning back on her hands and looking up to the stars.

“Me too.” 

“We’ll see everyone soon enough,” Evan tried to say, though the words felt empty even to him. He could feel himself start to slip into a fountain of memories that would leave him bittersweet and lonely, so he shook himself off it and turned to his companions. “In other news, I have a plan for tomorrow.” 

Chrissy said nothing, instead just leaned over to place her palm against his forehead several times with a little too much force. 

Evan smacked her hand away. “The hell is wrong with you?” 

“Just making sure you don’t have a fever. You sound delusional.” 

“Just how do I sound delusional right now?”

“You just said you have a plan.” 

“You never have a plan,” Brock agreed.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Evan glared at her, flashed her his middle fingers. 

She whistled. “Wrong answer, it was three.” 

“ _ Anyways _ ,” Evan stressed, ignoring her for now. “My plan: we get close to Valentine by midday tomorrow, depending on how early we get goin’ again. We camp out on a ridge, somewhere we can see the refinery but we aren’t too close. We wait until night falls, and we go fuck their shit up. We leave, camp out for the night, then get goin’ the next day.” 

“How do we mess their stuff up?” Brock asked, eyeing the wagon and all its potential fire-producing implements. 

“Simple: we lock the gate and rain hellfire down upon them.”

“What if there are people inside?” 

“There won’t be. I’ve taken a look around the refinery before, checked it out to see if there was anything valuable inside. There wasn’t, not that I could tell, but at night, everyone leaves. It’s just property damage, no lives lost.” 

“Why camp the night, then? Why not just leave?” 

“I mean we can, if y’all don’t mind traveling at night. I just figured it’s better for the horses during the day.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’d rather we play it by ear, you know? Maybe set up a watch, so we can be aware if something bad happens.” 

“We should set up a watch for tonight, too,” Brock said, fidgeting with the rabbits over the fire. “You never know what might be waiting for us.” 

Evan didn’t have the energy to argue with him. “You take the first shift then.” 

“This is a good spot,” Evan said; he offered to drive the wagon since he knew this area the best. It was the early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky and bearing down on them. 

Chrissy hopped down before the wagon had even come to a full stop, pacing to stretch her legs as she admired where they had wound up. They were up at the top of a ridge, with the Heartlands laid out for miles and miles all around them; it was beyond beautiful. 

And at the bottom, a good ways away - Cornwall Kerosene and Tar. The refinery was surrounded by a high fence, with low traffic coming in and out. Noxious black fumes poured from the smokestacks, leading Chrissy to wonder if they should’ve tried bombing the place instead of lighting it on fire. 

Then she remembered that Brian had called dibs on the dynamite, the selfish bastard. Arson would just have to suffice. 

“We’ll head out there around midnight or so, when the sun’s good and set,” Evan told them, unloading a tent and setting it up so they could lean against the wagon and be shielded from the sun. 

“So what’re we gonna do until then?” Brock asked, working on unhitching the horses so they could roam a little and graze. 

“Wait.” 

“We could play poker,” Chrissy offered, half-hearted gesturing to her bags. “I’ve got cards with me.” 

“So you can rob us of all our money?” Evan narrowed his eyes at her, but started rummaging through her stuff anyway.

“Just don’t suck at poker, and maybe you’ll keep your cash.” 

“As long as it doesn’t turn into strip poker, I’m down to play.” Brock sat down on the ground. It was a well-hidden fact that he liked to gamble every now and then - he got pretty good at it, all things considered. When running with a crew of thieves and conmen, one learns how to play poker pretty well if they’re willing to learn. 

They played well into the night, each winning some and losing some more. 

Looking at his watch, Evan startled when he realized just how late it’d gotten. “We gotta go.” He threw his cards down and made for the wagon. “It’s time.” 

“What do you want us to do?” Brock offered, handing Chrissy his cards in a more gentle manner so she could put them away. 

“Saddle the horses and load up as many fire bottles as you can.” 

“So who’s staying behind then?” Chrissy asked, tossing her pack of cards into the wagon. “Since we’ve only got two horses.” 

Brock raised his hand. “I will. This seems more y’all’s speed than mine.” 

“Sounds good to me.”

It wasn’t long before the horses were saddled and the supplies were packed; Brock waved goodbye as Evan and Chrissy rode down the ridge, anticipation finally rearing its head in Evan’s chest. 

It’d been a long while since he had the opportunity to engage in a good bout of arson, and he intended to enjoy this. It very well might just be his last chance to do so.

“Quick and painless, right?” Chrissy asked, keeping pace with him and giving him a hard look. 

Evan waved her off. “Of course, yeah.”

As he expected - hoped, really - the refinery was dead silent. All the workers were home, the machinery was off, it couldn’t have been more perfect for them. 

“You take the back,” Evan told Chrissy, eyeing the facility with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “I’ll close the gate, and throw the first bottle.” 

“Roger that.”

The metal gate that ran the perimeter of the refinery was open when Evan rounded the refinery; he got off his horse to close it, locking it with a metal padlock that had been lying on the ground. The lock must normally be for the gate, but he wondered where the key was.

It didn’t matter. Evan got back on his horse and took out his first fire bottle and a pack of matches. He lit the cloth, aimed, and threw it as hard as he could.

It crashed against the face of the largest piece of machinery; the alcohol was aflame in an instant, raining down over the refinery in a spectacular haze of carnage. Towards the back of the main building, another explosion lit the sky.

One after another, Evan threw every fire bottle he packed; he only had seven, but with Chrissy’s as well, the entire refinery was burning when he was done. Neither the machinery nor the building was recognizable, swarmed as they were flames.

Then, a scream rang out. Only for a moment, there and gone so quickly Evan couldn’t be sure that he heard it. 

He ignored it for now; he urged his horse on, reuniting with Chrissy as she came around the corner.

“Did you fucking hear that?” She asked as they began to head back to Brock. “You said there wouldn’t be anyone inside, and that was  _ definitely _ a person.”

“No there wasn’t,” Evan found himself saying before he could think about it. “I didn’t hear a scream, I dunno what you’re talking about.” 

She just looked at him, eyes narrowed and suspicious. She glanced back to the burning wreckage of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, watching as the flames continued to eat away the wooden structures. “I wanna keep moving tonight.” 

“As long as you don’t mind driving,” Evan told her honestly. 

“I don’t.” 

Brock had watched from his binoculars as the oil refinery was set aflame, whistling lowly when he lowered them and could still quite clearly see the chaos. From so far away, it looked like a very large campfire instead of a burning building. 

A quick pang of guilt hit him then. That was several people’s workplace he was watching burn. They would be out of jobs, and for what? What did he and the others gain from this?

Then Chrissy and Evan were coming up the ridge, and he forgot all of that instant. “Great job, guys,” He said, gesturing to the much smaller fire beside him. “I got dinner ready.” 

“We’ll have to eat on the road,” Chrissy said tersely. “I don’t feel safe here, we’re leaving right now. Help me with the horses.” 

Brock was on the move immediately, unsaddling the horses to hook them back up to the wagon. “Did something happen?” 

“Ask Evan.” 

At his companion’s confused glance, Evan sighed. Rubbed at his face, suddenly feeling more tired than he has in years. Exhausted. “Chrissy says she heard a scream.”

“Because I did,” Chrissy told him. “An innocent person just died from what we did.”

“How innocent could someone be to work for Cornwall?” 

“Evan.” 

“It’s too late now, if he was truly there, well the poor bastard’s dead and we can’t change that. We have to keep our focus on the future.”

Chrissy’s gaze hardened. “We should camp out in the valley that leads to Colter. Then tomorrow we can head up into the mountains.”

Evan tried to stop her from climbing up into the driver’s bench and winced when she glared at him. “You must be exhausted-” 

“Oh, I’m a lot of things right now. But I’m fine to drive, so get in the damn wagon, and let’s get out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Evan kept his eyes on the refinery as they left; eyed the inferno, wondered how long it would take to finally burn down so someone could go and reclaim the body that would inevitably be charred beyond recognition. 

He searched within himself for that overly familiar sense of guilt he normally felt when there were innocent casualties. When he couldn’t find it, he tried harder. Guilt, remorse, horror, he tried to wrench even a hint from within himself. 

There was nothing. Just acceptance. 

Surprised with himself, Evan hoped that he wasn’t on his way to becoming a psychopathic serial killer or something. 

He pictured himself like that and felt a comforting stab of shocked disgust. 

He was so close to everything he’d ever wanted that he didn’t care who got trampled along the way, he reasoned with himself. His dream was so tangible he could almost feel it, could almost taste it, sweet on the breeze like the sugar dust that floated in puffs when Kelly would stress bake treats for them all. 

That unknown man who burned along with the oil refinery was an obstacle, just like a rock in the road. Evan won’t let something so meager get in his way, not now. Too much was on the line. 

He could only hope that Tyler felt the same, kept the same focus on getting everyone safely out west. 

As they passed under the night sky, glittering stars lighting their way, Evan fell asleep. He dreamt of his lovers, of sharing the rest of his life with them. As it should be. As it would be. 


	42. gotta finish the job properly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Simone, Jonathan, and Lui to head out west. They make a stop along the way, to a place where some unfinished business had managed to avoid their wrath. Until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, it's been like a month since I last updated. My bad, I hadn't realized how much time had passed. So here's a poorly edited chapter, for your enjoyment. 
> 
> Side note, my semester ends in about 3 weeks, so after that, I should have plenty of time and energy to finish this story. Hang with me, y'all, we're almost there.

“Shoes, guns, clothes, Tiny, rations, soap, for the love of everything that is holy, please don’t forget the soap-” 

“Simone!” Jonathan placed his hands on her shoulders, effectively shutting down her mental checklist. “We’ve already been through this four times, by now. We have everything.” 

“Everything we could possibly need, and then some,” Lui agreed from his spot up on the wagon. “I’m good to go whenever you fellers are.” 

Jonathan glanced over to where Tyler was in their tent, alone. Looked back to Simone, who gave him a smile so full of compassion that it made his chest hurt. 

“Go say goodbye,” She removed his hands from her shoulders, spun him around, gently pushed him forward. “Take as long as you need, I’ve got to go ensure that this camp won’t fall without me.” 

“You know it will. We always do.” Still, he gave her a grateful nod, a with Tiny the dog at his heels, Jon steeled himself as best as he could and headed straight for Tyler. 

He only faltered a little at the threshold of their tent. This was the last time he’d see it, hopefully forever. They wouldn’t need it when they were out west. They’d have a  _ home _ . 

The endless amounts of bullshit they’ve been through would be worth it.

“I love you,” Jonathan said simply. He found himself unable to say more, felt the words choke up in his throat. 

Tyler shot up from where he’d sat on the bed, eyes wide like he hadn’t heard Jon approach. He crossed the space in an instant, wrapped himself around Jon, and held him closely. Jonathan held him back, just as tightly, if not more. It was too much and not enough, never enough. 

They were missing the one person who would make it complete. 

“We’ll see him soon,” Tyler murmured, rocking them in place. “You’ll see us soon. We’ll all be together soon, as it should be.” 

Jonathan nodded, searched hard for the words he wanted to say. Could only muster up another “I love you.” 

“And I you. I’ll come back to you, no matter what.”

They were on the road far later than Simone would’ve liked. She had planned for them to leave early so they could make a detour along the way without it hurting their schedule. But of course, when asked to leave early, Jon took that as a personal challenge to leave as late as he could possibly manage without pissing everyone off. 

Simone swore, even if time itself didn’t exist, Jon would still find a way to be late to anything and everything.

He volunteered to drive first. Lui made himself comfortable in the wagon with a novel and Tiny the dog, while Simone sat next to Jon on the bench. She watched as Annesburg disappeared into the forests behind them and felt a peculiar sort of relief. She hadn’t liked staying there, not for a single second. It felt too much like they were constantly being watched, though, by what, she couldn’t tell. 

It had been utterly unnerving. 

Now, though, she just felt… okay. 

She turned to Jon, who raised an eyebrow at her in response. 

“Can we perhaps make a stop somewhere?” 

Jonathan glanced to his watch, pondered it for a single moment, then agreed. “Where you wanna go, Miss Olivia?” 

“Rhodes.” 

“And just why would we ever go back to that hellhole?” Jon spat, bitterness rolling off him in waves so quickly that Simone recoiled from it. 

“I want to visit Marcel’s grave before we leave forever. Don’t forget, Mister Dennis, you get to see your lovers again at the end of this. I don’t.” She looked away from him, crossed her arms to try and fend off the anguish threatening to press down on her from above. She’d been doing so well lately, it was easy to forget just how much everything still  _ hurt _ . 

Jonathan was quiet for a moment, Lui dead silent as well. Even Tiny stopped himself from yipping at the birds. The only sound was the horses’ hooves against the path, the wheels crunching over dirt. 

“Forgive me.” The words sounded as if they were forced from him, but she could tell that he was being sincere. “Rhodes it is. We’ll get there by the sundown, roughly.” 

“Thank you.”

True to his words, the sun was hanging low in the sky by the time they neared their stop. 

Jonathan had made the decision to hole up in their old camp. Clemens Point looked the same; a few scorched circles in the dirt from where their campfires had left their temporary mark, a couple empty bottles left from their hurried departure. The nature otherwise untouched. 

The lake was calm as ever, the trees still whispering their secrets to the wind.

If Jonathan thought hard enough, he could practically see Marcel’s ghost, sitting at one of the tables and waiting to play cards with someone, anyone who’d pass him by first. 

“Never thought we’d be back here,” Lui said softly, pushing himself up from where he’d been laying down. 

“We probably shouldn’t be,” Jon admitted, bringing the wagon to a halt close to the center of the clearing. It’d be better to stay away from the path, concealed as it was from the main road. “But I reckon no one will be lookin’ for us here.”

Simone said nothing as she climbed down, planting herself on the ground and taking in her surroundings. It felt surreal for her to be here again. “Where’s his grave?” She asked, wrapping her arms around herself. 

When Scotty had brought her here, he had skirted them around Clemen Points, carefully keeping them both away from it. They had to get to Marcel’s grave from a different route, she didn’t know how to get to him from here.

“I’ll take you,” Jon offered. He grabbed a rifle, nodded to Lui. “Set up camp while we’re gone?” 

“Sure thing.”

Jon turned to Simone and offered his arm to her. Like they were gentleman and lady, headed to a ball or a theater in a nice city, instead of the grave of their friend in the middle of the woods. 

“It isn’t far,” He told her, leading her on a path that followed the edge of the lake. 

“Okay.” She mapped out the way, despite it just being a simple path. She needed to memorize this, remember each tree along the way, each rock in the ground, how the breeze rustled the leaves. 

They trekked maybe a quarter of a mile, and then they came upon a small hill. The top of it overlooked the lake perfectly. It would’ve been the perfect place for a picnic; Simone could imagine Marcel taking her there, surely under some unnecessary guise of scoping out a job somewhere else. She could imagine him spreading a blanket, unpacking a basket filled with her favorite snacks. She could see him handing her a can of strawberries, knowing that it’s her favorite and feeling so proud of himself for remembering. 

“Can I be alone for a moment?” She asked, slipping her free from Jon’s. 

“Want me to head back?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind. I can find my way.” 

He nodded, looked to where the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. “Don’t be long, if you can. I don’t like the idea of you walking around in the dark.” 

“I can handle myself, but if it’ll make you feel better, you can leave me a pistol.” 

Jon slung his rifle off and handed it over. “Take this. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

She took the gun, barely looking at it as she gently put the strap over her shoulder. “Sure.”

Back at camp, Jonathan had managed to sit still for all of fifteen minutes before he couldn’t stand it anymore. It was getting late, but he couldn’t bear the thought of staying here all night. Not when he was so close to the town that had damn near ruined his life several times over.

“I’m going into Rhodes,” He told Lui as he headed for the horses. They’d been unhitched from the wagon to feed, so Jon went for his stallion. 

“You’re fucking insane,” Lui replied, unmoving from his spot by the fire. “You shot that town to Hell and back, they’ll kill you before you can even blink.” 

“I killed anyone who could recognize me. I’ll be fine.” 

Lui knew better than to argue. “For the love of God, don’t get yourself arrested. Or shot.” 

“Relax, partner.” Jonathan saddled his horse up, swung himself up and grinned. “I’ll be back by morning at the latest.” 

“Bring back some dinner if you can,” Lui called after him as he raced out of Clemens Point.

Instead of heading directly for Rhodes, Jonathan took a detour. He needed to see for himself the remnants of their presence, the effects they must have had on the shit-stained state of Lemoyne.

His first stop was Caligula Hall, home of the Grays. 

He didn’t go too far onto the property, choosing instead to keep to the perimeter. He couldn’t risk getting spotted by a single person, not right now. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t give a shit. He’d march right the fuck up and go knock on the front door to see who was left alive. 

But he had Evan and Tyler waiting for him, expecting him to show in one piece.

So he clung to the shadows and glared at the plantation house from a distance. It wasn’t deserted and broken like he’d wanted it to be. Lights were on inside, and he could see the movement of horses out around the back of the house.

No, there were still Grays alive. Some that had apparently survived the massacre in town. That didn’t sit quite right with Jonathan.

The only thing about the sight of Caligula Hall that  _ did _ sit right with Jon was how the tobacco fields looked as if it had only been yesterday that Evan and Chrissy had scorched them to Hell and back. The Earth was still blackened, the plants themselves cleared out but their ashes seemed to soak into the soil itself.

At least this little detour wasn’t a complete waste. With his mind already set alight with a thousand ideas on how to rectify the idea of there still being Grays around, he turned his horse towards the second stop of the night.

Braithewait Manor was much more satisfying to look at. The roads into the property had been blocked off with barricades that had seen better days. 

The land was closed off, soon after it had been torched, and no one has touched it since. 

Jonathan found a bit of fence that was broken enough for his horse to jump, and strode onto the property, right up to what was left of the big house itself. 

Not much was left, and it was so  _ pleasing _ to look at. The foundation of the house was completely blackened, the earth around it was scorched beyond viability, and the entire thing smelt of death. 

There may be Grays left to wander the remains of their town, but the Braithewait’s were certainly no more.

Feeling renewed, Jonathan set his sights on Rhodes. 

He was slightly disappointed. 

It wasn’t quite as dead as he’d hoped it would be; even at this time of night, people were milling about the tavern and the hotel. Not as many, that’s for sure. But enough people. 

Granted, it had been a good few months since the Wine gang had left their mark on these people. 

Jonathan grinned when he spotted wanted posters hung around, tattered and barely legible, but still calling out for his blood, for the blood of his family. 

He pulled his hat low over his face, hitched up his horse, and entered the Grays' tavern. 

Hardly a soul paid him attention upon his entrance. The interior looked the same as the last time Jon had been in here; men and women alike sharing drinks, reveling in the pianist’s music, enjoying their night. 

Jonathan wove his way around them until he got to the bar. He smirked when he saw how much the moonshine price had increased. Guess that’s what happened when the suppliers got killed off of the market. 

“A whiskey, my good man,” Jonathan told the bartender, putting on his best English accent. He slapped some money onto the bar, far too much for his single drink, but enough to warrant a grin from the tired man pouring for him. 

“Hello to you too, sir,” The bartender slid his shot over, took the money in return. “You new in town? I don’t recognize you.” 

“You could say that.” Jonathan downed his whiskey, signaled for another. “I’m just passing through. I’m on my way to the coast, you see, and I remember passing through here before, years ago. I thought I’d pass by. See what’s changed.”

The bartender’s smile grew tighter around the edges, his eyes grew colder. But he didn’t waver for a second, shining glass after glass as he said, “Seems you’re the followin’ the storm, so to speak. I hope you avoid it entirely.” 

“Storm?” 

“Fellers who’ve lost their way from God,” He clarified. “Who saw fit to shoot up our nice town, sending far too many good men to Heaven before it was their time.” 

Jonathan’s hand tightened around his glass, threatening to shatter the thing into a million pieces. He did his best to tamp down the surge of anger at the thought of those pricks being any kind of deserving of Heaven. Even Hell was too good for them. “Who would’ve shot up Rhodes? Who would do that?” 

“Scoundrels. Beggars and thieves who thought they could kill anyone they wanted and get away with it.” 

“Well, did they?” 

“For now. The law will catch up to them eventually. Even if it doesn’t, then the Grays won’t give up, they’ll take matters into their own hands if they have to.”

Jonathan’s smile grew thin, but he doubted the bartender noticed. “Grays, you say?” 

“Yes, the Grays. You said you passed through here before, mister? And you don’t know the Grays?” 

“I guess I don’t. Who are they?” 

“Only the most important family in Rhodes. Used to be they was locked in a feud with the Braithwaites, but the Braithewait’s are no more. I suppose that’s the only good thing those hellspawns did when they was here - they also took out Catherine Braithewait and her brood of inbreds. Then those scoundrels decided the Braithewaits wasn’t enough for their bloodlust, so they went after the Grays too! They didn’t succeed though, no sir. A few Grays are left, enough to carry Rhodes on. We’re doing okay for it all. The worst is over.” 

“Helluva story,” Jonathan replied, voice strained. “The Grays looking for vengeance? I know I would be.”

The bartender waved him off. “Nah, those fellers are too good for that. They’re just waiting for the right opportunity, mister. They’re the law around here, and the depraved are always brought to justice, one way or another.” 

“Sure.” Jonathan downed his drink, slammed the glass down on the counter. “Have a good night.” He threw some money on the counter and got the hell out of that place. 

Despite the night being chill, the air was stifling. It weighed heavy on Jonathan’s shoulders, threatening to suffocate him as he passed by the damn sheriff’s office. 

“Well, something’s gotta be done about this,” He told the emptiness around him. 

Simone wasn’t difficult at all to convince. If anything, she seemed more eager than Jonathan did. More willing to show Rhodes just what they had done wrong in taking Marcel from her. 

Lui was more difficult to convince, and that was only due to the fact that they weren’t forming a full plan. 

“We don’t need one,” Jonathan had told him. “We work best when we need to improvise.” 

“You’re more likely to get killed when you have to improvise,” Lui corrected. He was already standing up though, retrieving his rifle from their wagon. “And I don’t want to drag your body across the country with us.” 

“Just wrap me up and let the horses carry me.” Jonathan gave him a hearty smack on his shoulder, and readied himself for the last bit of violence he was going to be able to indulge in for a long while. “Simone, you ready?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mister Dennis.” She grinned, which was a terrifying look with her shotgun in her gloved hands.

“Rhodes ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em.” 

They left their two horses just outside of Rhodes proper.

Jonathan helped Simone down, and with Lui behind them, they traversed the reddened streets for the last time.

“I despise this place,” Simone told them, letting her eyes wash over the emptied streets, the closed shops, the full tavern.

“Me too,” Jonathan noted with glee that the sheriff’s office was occupied. A lantern in the window, movement within. Their efforts wouldn’t be for nothing. “Lui, go see if you can score us two bottles of moonshine, would ya’?” 

He knew better than to think they were gonna be drinking any of it. “We gonna burn something down?” 

“Of course we are. After Miss Olivia and I pay the sheriff a visit.” 

“Understood.” Lui slipped out from them, veering off to the Grays' tavern as the other two outlaws continued on their way. 

Simone glanced to Jon, then back to the bustling bar. “We gonna kill the whole town? I thought we were just after the Grays.” 

“We are, don’t worry. I don’t wanna kill innocent people here. Just wanna give them a really good reason to evacuate the bar before they get burned alive.” 

Satisfied with that, she nodded. “I’d hate to be the poor bastard who crosses you.” 

“As I would hate to be the poor bastard that crossed  _ you _ .” Jonathan brought them both to a stop just outside the sheriff’s office. 

Simone held her a shotgun a little higher, rolled her shoulders. “Let’s show those poor bastards just who they crossed.” 

“After you, ma’am.” Jonathan stood to the side and swung open the door. 

Simone entered first, pumping the two men in front of her full of lead. Jonathan came in behind her, shooting the third idiot that tried to sneak out through the back. 

He dropped like a fly, but he wasn’t dead yet. Jonathan passed over the two that  _ were _ dead and crouched down so he could get a better look at the idiot. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, knocking the idiot’s gun out of his reach. 

The man’s hands came up to the bullet wound in his stomach. “Claudius Gray,” He choked out between his pained groans. 

Jonathan didn’t bother to hide his glee. He just stood up to rest his boot against the bullet wound, but he didn’t put pressure on it yet. “Gray, huh? I remember y’all. Pathetic sonsofbitches. There any more of ya’ out there?” 

“Hundreds,” The man seethed, rearing back to spit a bloodied glob right onto Jonathan’s pants. 

Jon just laughed and pressed  _ down _ with his boot. Right into the wound, leaning half his weight on it. “Let’s try that again. Are there any more of you cock-sucking, hypocritical, stupid fucking Grays?” 

“No!” The man cried out, jerking himself away from Jon’s boot, only to be met with the floor beneath him. “You just murdered all that was left!” 

“Not yet I didn’t.” Jonathan leveled his pistol at the man’s head, ending his painful existence with a clean shot through the eye. 

Simone whistled, looking at him with a weird sort of smile.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, nothing. Evan and Tyler are very lucky, that’s all. Anywho,” She said loudly before he could ask what the hell she meant. “We should go see how Lui’s fared.”

As it turned out, he had fared rather well. He’d manage to steal three bottles of moonshine from a wagon behind the tavern and had already gone through and stuffed a strip of fabric into the top of all of them. 

“Firebottle for you, madam.” He handed one to Simone, another for Jon, kept the third for himself. “I heard the gunshots, everything go well?” 

“The Grays are no more,” Jonathan told him with an unhealthy amount of pride. “Anyone inside hear us?” 

“You kidding me? You think anyone could hear anything over that racket?” 

The tavern was bursting with noise; drunken people all singing along to some song, some pianist leading them in a horrible choir of inebriated joy. 

“Let’s do this then. We’ll light it from the back, give them a chance to escape.” Jonathan led his companions around to the back entrance to the tavern, where it was littered with empty glass bottles, cigarette filters, and stank of urine from drunk pissers looking to relieve themselves. 

Jonathan dug out the packet of matches from his coat and set alight each firebottle. “On your mark,” He told Simone, stepping back to allow her some room. 

She spread her feet and threw the firebottle as hard as she possibly could. It crashed against the facade of the building, exploding spectacularly with flaming alcohol. 

Jonathan and Lui each threw theirs next, aiming for roughly the same spot. The building was now thoroughly on fire, the smoke billowing and the flames eating away at the wood with alarming speed. None of the patrons noticed yet; their merry-making covered the excitement of it all.

Then the three outlaws took off at a sprint back to the horses, aiming to disappear before anyone even knew what was going on. 

“Goodbye, Rhodes!” Jonathan cheered as they mounted up and rode away, leaving that shithole behind them forever. 

“It was nice knowin’ ya!” Simone yelled, her cheerful laugh echoing around them as they stole away into the night. She tightened her grip on Jonathan as she laughed, pressing her face in between his shoulder blades to steady herself. 

Jon shared a grin with Lui. This was a night well spent. 

When they returned to Tiny the dog guarding their wagon, they didn’t waste any time in hitching the horses back up and leaving Lemoyne behind entirely. 

Driven nearly mad with restless energy, Jonathan offered to drive first. Simone sat next to him on the bench, unable to relax as well. 

Lui laid himself down in the wagon and went right to sleep. 

“Next stop, that one town we all agreed to meet at,” Jonathan said confidently as he steered them out of Clemens Point.

Simone eyed him sideways. “You forgot the name already, didn’t you?” 

“Why, m’lady, I’m insulted.” Jonathan brought a hand to his chest with a dramatic flourish, then immediately dropped it. “Yeah, yeah I did.” 

“Silent Reach.” 

“Ah yes! Thank you, my loyal navigator. Next stop, Silent Reach!” 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it, please leave a comment or a kudos, they go a long way!


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